Relentless
by TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo
Summary: For those that wonder how Sam and Serendipity's romance began, look no further. A companion story to 'See,' 'Relentless' takes place during the same timeline, but is told from Sam and Serra's perspective. I have rated this one M for language and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings! Lately, I've been having a lot of fun telling stories from different perspectives. _Relentless_ is a companion story to _See_ , having the same timeline, but told from Sam and Serendipity's perspective. I hope you enjoy this...I've had a lot of requests to hear more about Sammy and Serra. After this, I will be getting back into my overall story arc at Winchester Ranch.

Let me know how you like _Relentless_.

Love and internetty hugs,

The Girl With The Dinosaur Tattoo**

...

Chapter 1

Sam, three days to go

Dean had been gone for longer than I was comfortable with and I had no idea where he would be at this time of the night. The Mark of Cain was definitely a possibility for the reasoning behind my brother's absence, and when I called him for the seventh time that night, I knew he had silenced the ring on his phone, completely ignoring me once again. I began a pace pattern around the Men of Letter bunker as I tried to figure out what to do.

If Dean was locked into a rage pattern like he had been recently, he could be anywhere, committing who knows what kind of crime against humanity. I just hoped that it was a monster he was punishing.

My phone buzzed with a text message. I walked back towards my phone that was charging on the small table next to the big comfy chair I favored. Picking it up, I sighed heavily, seeing that Dean had taken the time to text me.

 _"Everything's fine,"_ he wrote. _"Stop calling me."_

Shaking my head and pressing my lips together, I held up my phone to tap out an answer. _"Where are you? You've been gone for hours."_

I didn't have to wait long for a reply. _"Don't worry about it. I'll be back later."_

I knew right then and there that Dean was done communicating for the night. I closed my eyes and tossed my phone back onto the table, rubbing my face with both of my hands and running my fingers through my hair. The constant stress I felt about handling Dean and walking on eggshells all the time was exhausting. I felt terribly for my brother and knew it wasn't entirely his fault, but the idea that he could be murdering someone wasn't exactly comforting.

Collapsing into the armchair behind me, I leaned my head back on the cushion and tried to stay conscious. I didn't want to miss when Dean would stumble through the door. I had to know what happened.

…

I heard Dean's keys in the door to the Men of Letters bunker and turned, ready to face my brother. I braced myself for what I might see, hoping that this time he wasn't covered in blood. He came in silently, probably hoping that I was already asleep, but I stood, ready for whatever Dean might throw at me, including a punch or two.

"Where have you been?" I asked, running my hands through my hair and trying not to sound like a worried mother.

Dean shook his head, ignoring me at first as he pulled off his canvas jacket and slung it onto one of the chairs. "Good to see you, too," he muttered, a razor sharp edge to his voice. He tossed his car keys onto the table and they skidded across the surface and tapped the desk lamp. We stared at each other for longer than I felt comfortable and finally, I raised my eyebrows and pressed him into answering. I knew that he was considering hitting me.

I almost didn't understand what he was doing when Dean turned from me and put his hands on the table, taking a deep, calming breath, but then I realized that he was in complete control of his emotions. He wasn't close to rage, and if he had been, it was passing and he was regaining control without destroying anything. I was caught off guard, especially when he began speaking, his voice a low growl.

"I went to a bar," he finally said. "I drank for awhile and now I'm here."

I was so confused that I puffed out a sigh and ran my hands through my hair once more. Shaking my head, I couldn't even form sentences.

"What, Sam?" Dean's voice was irritated, but still calmer than it had been in months.

I went with the usual argument. "If the Mark is affecting you as badly as I think it is, you need to talk about it. We need to figure this out, Dean," I sighed, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could. I paced back towards the stack of research we had done in the Men of Letters library since Dean's stint as a demon.

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean sighed, trying to walk away from me. "Let it go."

I stepped in front of him and held up my hands. "No, Dean. I'm not going to let this go. You're in pain, you're edgy and you're never sleeping. One of these days, you're going to snap and you're going to kill someone you don't want to," I said, too fast, too out of breath. I struggled to keep control of the tone of my voice so that Dean wouldn't get upset. Or, at least, more upset than he already was.

He turned back towards me slowly, taking another deep breath in through his nose. Dean closed his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm coping, Sam," he sighed. "Just let me cope."

I couldn't stop myself. "Is whiskey a part of coping?"

"Yes," he shot back, "but this time there was conversation too." Dean regretted his words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He rolled his eyes and bit his bottom lip, trying to avoid the conversation that was about to follow. The change in his demeanor was immediately apparent and I knew there was more information there.

"Conversation?" I asked. "Conversation with who?"

Dean seemed almost embarrassed as he shook his head slowly and closed his eyes, admitting defeat. "I met a girl," he explained quietly.

"A girl," I repeated in disbelief. Half of me wanted to turn around, expecting her to be waiting in the entryway, but I knew he had come in alone. As I stared at my brother, I knew that something primal in him had changed. He no longer was concerned with what happened to him because of his own selfish desires, but because of Grace. I would never be able to show my gratitude enough towards her, even now.

…

Back then, I had no idea that this was the beginning of the rest of our lives. Dean had just encountered Grace Browning, his soul mate, his one true pairing, and there was nothing he was able to do to avoid the dedication and love that would build between them. I had no idea that with Grace would come Serendipity, her little sister.

My sunshine mixed with a little hurricane.

My whiskey in a teacup.

My natural disaster.

Serendipity is who I am. She's who I breathe and live for. There is nothing besides her face.

But it hadn't always been that way.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sam, two days to go

I could hear voices, but I had no idea where they were coming from. Consciousness tugged at my dreams, pulling me away from a brunette, but I couldn't see her face. She was all long auburn hair and smiles, curves and tattoos. I had no idea who the woman was in my dream, but I knew that she was who I belonged with.

As I awoke completely, I began to lose the connection I had with the no-faced girl I had dreamed of. I shook her out of my mind and stood from the armchair and stretched, still hearing the voices floating down the hall of the Men of Letters bunker.

Walking cautiously, I moved towards Dean's room and I heard the voices stop as I knocked on his door. "Dean?" I asked. "How long have you been home?"

The positive change in Dean's voice was already apparent. He sighed contentedly, saying, "Awhile, Sam. I didn't want to wake you."

"How did your pie date go?"

He hesitated only a second, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "Pretty well, Sammy."

I considered this a moment and held my shock as I made a face, figuring out where the other voice was coming from. "She's in there with you, isn't she?" I knew the answer even before I asked the question.

A female voice giggled quietly and answered, almost unwillingly. "Hi, Sam," she finally replied.

I tried not to smile as I listened to my brother and his new novelty laugh, but I knew it would be short lived. "Well, I'm making hamburgers if you two plan on coming up for air anytime soon."

As I walked down the hall towards the kitchen, I knew this was going to be a conversation with Dean that I wasn't going to want to have. He would be defensive and angry at my line of thinking, especially considering that The Mark was probably the reason he was in his bedroom with a girl, but I wouldn't necessarily put it passed my brother to bring home a random female. At least he hadn't killed her.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Dean had brought a woman home to the bunker without talking to me about it first. Our home had been invaded for a one night stand and now she knew where we lived. It was as if he had forgotten everything about what we had been working to do because of some piece of ass.

They joined me in the kitchen a few minutes later and I did my best not to bang the pots and pans around like some pissed off housewife. Dean was rosy cheeked and content and I couldn't help rolling my eyes at how obvious he was being. I took another drink of the beer I was drinking and raised my eyebrows, trying not to sound too pompous.

"Grace?" I asked, extending my hand to shake hers. She didn't take it, but she smiled in return.

"Hi Sam, it's nice to meet you," Grace said, almost apologetically.

Grace was tall and blonde; pretty typical of Dean's type. Her long wavy hair hung passed her back, dusting the ridiculous red sweatpants that she wore and her eyes were piercingly blue. Dean seemed to orbit around her, watching every move she made and smiling stupidly, especially when she turned to return the grin at him as he offered her a stool at the bar.

"You too," I finally answered, sighing. "You want a beer?"

Grace smiled, thanking me, and set it down on the bar. She turned towards Dean, moving her body just enough that she was within inches of him. "Where's the bathroom?" she asked. Dean and I pointed down the hall in tandem and watched her walk away. I sighed heavily as I turned to see Dean staring at her backside and preparing myself to lecture him; I took a deep breath and tapped the bar to get his attention.

I kept my voice down as I lectured him about bringing her back to the bunker, but I might as well have been scolding the arm chair. He shook his head occasionally, rolling his eyes, but Dean wasn't hearing anything of what I was saying. It was then that I finally realized that Dean might not be on a one night stand. My brother might actually be hooked on this girl.

I didn't know which was worse, especially after I learned that she was a by-touch psychic.

…

Looking back, I had no idea that the previous night would be the last night that my brother and I were alone in this world. After we had burgers that night and made small talk, it was hard to picture our lives without the Browning sisters. The more time I spent with Dean and Grace, the more I realized that they were falling hard for each other, almost dangerously fast, but at the same time, Dean was as calm as I had seen him in months. The Mark of Cain wasn't red and pounding against the veins in his arm, and he spoke with a genuine smile on his face and he was quick to laugh. It was like having the old Dean back.

By the end of the dinner, I found myself wanting Grace to stay, just to keep the calm that had fallen around Dean in such a short amount of time. Soon, they found their way back to Dean's room and I fell asleep on the couch.

Later that night, a storm blew in and looking back, I think it's perfectly fitting that the thunder and lightning brought Serra to me.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam, the day of

"What are we dealing with?" I asked, following Dean in the El Camino from the Men of Letter's garage.

He answered almost immediately. "Rougarou," his voice echoed through my car.

"Got it," I replied, hanging up and popping my neck.

From what I understood, the Browning sisters were hunters as well (and further proof that Dean was falling hard for this girl: she knew exactly what was at stake and I still wasn't sure how I felt about it). I followed them up to the quaint suburban two-story and watched as my brother went in to hunt-mode, gesturing towards the back of the house where we could both see a mud trail from something crawling up the trellis on the house. Grace was working hard to stay controlled and I understood where she was coming from. Her sister was in danger. I would be acting the same way if it were Dean.

The house was torn apart and Dean led Grace upstairs to check for a hint as to where her sister might be. From the top of the steps, Dean shook his head once at me and we were back in the cars in no time, chasing after the rougarou nest that was near a hardware store.

The fight was hard and happened too quickly, but Dean and I took out the two remaining rougarou as Grace searched for her sister, screaming for her as she ran down the alley. I could hear a jingle of keys and realized that Dean had given her the keys to the Impala in case things got out of hand and we lost control of the situation. She would have an escape route.

He hardly ever gives _me_ the keys.

The first time I saw her; she was covered in mud and was bleeding from her lip, and it seemed to make her more beautiful than she should have been. She had long, auburn hair and was petite: small enough that I probably could have pulled her up from the sewer on my own, but Dean and I grabbed her by her hands and set her down next to Grace. The sisters embraced and I could almost feel a heat emanating from my chest. When Serendipity stared up at me with her hazel eyes, I looked away almost immediately. There was no way in hell I was going to be interested in Dean's girlfriend's sister.

That would have been way too complicated.

…

We got the girls back to the house and they disappeared to clean themselves up. As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned to Dean and tilted my head, lifting my eyebrows.

"Dude," I said, not sure where to go next.

Dean turned and returned the look. "What?" he asked, searching for a broom.

I gestured vaguely to the living room. "They're hunters that have a house?" I turned a full circle and tilted my head, adding, "And a nice one, at that."

Shrugging, Dean looked around, nodding approvingly. "Grace has her shit together, Sammy," he began as he swept the mud and debris from the entry way. "She's not hunting full time anymore. The little one is going to school and Grace is a teacher…" he faded away as he closed the front door gently. "She told me the only reason they went after the rougarou is because it was so close to home."

"Yeah, that word 'home' again," I began. "How do a couple of twenty-something ex-hunters have a home?"

Dean licked his lips and leaned on the broom, shaking his head. "I don't know, Sam," he sighed, sounding exhausted. "They do. I don't really care where they got it."

I stared at him long enough to decide that it wouldn't matter if the girls had killed the previous owners and taken it for themselves. Either way, Dean was hooked on the elder sister and nothing I said would change his mind.

We cleaned up the living room quietly while we listened to the upstairs shower run and when the water shut off, I glanced at my brother, who was peeling off his outer layers of clothes and leaving his boots on the entry way tile. "What are you doing?" I asked as he tossed his jacket and flannel towards the arm of the couch.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "I'm staying here tonight," he answered. "There's no way I'm leaving her alone after that."

"They're big girls. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Jesus, Sam, what's the hurry to get back to the BatCave? Have _you_ got a girl hidden somewhere? Is she in the dungeon?" Dean smirked at the absurdity of the question, obviously amused at his own joke. "If you wanna go back, then go, but I'm telling you, that little one? Serra? She's hot, too." He winked at me. "You should get some of that."

"Dude."

"Seriously."

I hadn't seen my brother this at ease in what seemed like years. When the girls came back down stairs, Serra was in clean clothes and had wet hair, looking exhausted. I had opened the laptop next to me after Grace had nodded her permission and was looking up other reports of animal attacks, just to make sure the rougarou problem was taken care of. For awhile, we were wrapped in our own thoughts, but then Serra finally broke the silence.

"I'm hungry," she stated, a small grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "Feel like some pie?"

Grace grinned back at her, shaking her head and looking flushed. I couldn't help smiling along with them, seeing how giddy they both were. It was contagious. Dean broke the silence and chuckled, forcing Serra into a giggle as well. Grace was redoing her hair, standing close to Dean and turned to smile at me.

I was torn, already feeling so at home with women I hadn't met until tonight. I realized how easily we talked and how easily smiles came to our faces, but I knew it had to be short-lived. Dean was a time-bomb, and if we didn't figure out a way to get The Mark of Cain off of him, he would end up doing something he regretted as soon as the after-glow wore off, and it would.

It always did.

Grace and Serra got to work in the kitchen and I moved to sit next to Dean at the bar, watching him as he interacted with the sisters. They danced around each other, moving as if they could predict each other's actions and I knew, just from experience with Dean, that it came from a lifetime of hunting with one another. They had been dependent on each other for survival for who knows how long. The thought of them being hunters whose lives mirrored our own made me ache. They paused near the stove and I could feel that they were talking about us in hushed whispers. I glanced up at exactly the right time and felt the heat of attraction as Serra and I locked eyes. I looked away quickly, finding forced interest in the marble counter of the bar. When I stared, out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Mark on Dean's arm was still dull and looking faded. I didn't have enough time to think about why it might be so different than it had been in months, because suddenly, we were all discussing the fact that Grace could hear Serendipity and as I eyed Dean's reaction, I realized that the whole situation fascinated him.

Nothing about Grace worried him and he didn't stop to question anything…not even the fact that she apparently, was a touch-psychic who could see every one of his thoughts, every one of the memories that we had experienced with each other, and he wasn't worried about what she would think.

I was.

The next thing I knew, Dean was telling Serra that he could project thoughts into Grace's mind through touch and Serra was floored.

"You can lie to her," Serra accused, staring at my brother with wide hazel eyes, her long eyelashes dusting her cheek when she finally blinked.

Dean looked embarrassed, staring at his steak and eggs, still holding his knife and fork. "That's not exactly my intent, but yeah, I guess I can," he answered quietly. He shrugged, "It wasn't that hard. I just pictured what I wanted her to see as we touched."

I looked from Dean to Serra and Grace, then back at Dean.

She smiled, shaking her head. "You've taken this day to a whole new level, Deano," Serendipity said, taking a huge bite of meat. "Congratulations."

…

After our meal, Dean and Grace automatically fell into step with each other and started the dishes, like they had been together for years, not hours. They talked quietly, leaning close, and the more I paid attention, the more I considered that they fit together like puzzle pieces. I excused myself quietly from the intimacy of the situation and headed back into the living room to try and pull my weight and finish cleaning up the mess left from the rougarou.

She moved so quietly, I didn't realize that she was following me until we got out into the expanse of the room. "Oh," I muttered; turning and seeing Serendipity for the first time. "Jeeze, you move quietly."

Grinning, she shrugged. "The life," she answered. "You know."

Nodding, I bent to pick up one of the throw pillows that had been on the floor and when I turned back towards her, she had obviously been staring. She didn't try to hide the fact that she had been inspecting my ass and I could feel myself nod in approval. I realized my mistake too late and shook my head, trying to find a place to stand or sit that didn't seem to close to Serra.

"You're okay, then?" I asked, finally moving far enough away from her that I didn't feel penned in.

She nodded, smiling, and then flipped her hair from one side of her head to the other. Serra wore a white tank, hugging her curves in all the right places, and a pair of black sweatpants, rolled twice to keep her from tripping over them. "Oh, yeah," she answered, plopping down on the couch. "I'm more pissed off than anything. Can't believe we let them get the drop on us. Sloppy."

"You're hunters, Dean said?" I asked, sitting down next to her. She nodded, leaning into the cushions. I tried not to let my eyes follow the outline of her hips and stomach. I tried not to focus on her cleavage. Licking my lips, I took a deep breath. "How long have you been a part of this world?"

Serra shrugged lightly. "All our lives," she answered. "Our parents were hunters; our grandparents were hunters…" she faded off. "Grace is probably the first in about six generations that wanted to stop the cycle."

"You don't want out?"

Glancing towards the kitchen, Serra gestured with a nod. "She's bent on us staying alive, but I just don't think we're good at anything else. I feel like we're in this life because we're good at it." She ran a hand through her long, wet hair and I tried to think about baseball.

Or rougarou.

Or banshees.

Anything to stop me from thinking about her neck or the smell of her hair.

"Besides," she continued, "why would I want out when I keep finding other hunters that look like you two?"

I could feel the color rise in my cheeks and I made the move to stand, but Serra's voice stopped me. She had already been distracted by Dean and Grace in the kitchen as they folded into each other and kissed deeply. She sighed heavily and said, a little too loudly, "You have a bedroom, you know."

I glanced towards Serra and again, felt the warmth in my chest. She was like a magnet and I wanted so badly to touch her, but I couldn't explain why. As Dean followed Grace up the stairs, I knew it was my opportunity to leave, but I couldn't make myself stand, so I turned to smile at Serra.

Pursing my lips, I considered her name. "Your whole name is Serendipity?" I asked, feeling myself relax now that Dean was otherwise occupied.

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh," she scoffed. "Yes. Mom had a thing with virtue names," she explained, tucking her bare feet into the cushions. "Dad's name was Truman, but she called him 'Tru', and the idea kinda stuck, I think."

"I like it," I commented without thinking. Her lips tugged into a half-smile.

It became easier and easier to talk with her and I uncoiled while I was near her, taking off my jacket and dumping my boots on the floor next to us. We talked, trying to ignore any of the noises from upstairs, and every once and awhile, Serra would giggle and roll her eyes.

We sat on the couch, both exhausted, simply staring at whatever was in front of us during a lull in the conversation. Finally, Serra spoke, "You don't have to stay, you know. Grace is upstairs with Dean and something tells me they're not coming down for awhile."

A half smile crossed my face. "I know. They were like that all today," I answered, rubbing my face, "God, is it still today? Tomorrow? I don't even know."

Serendipity glanced at the clock, "It's almost three in the morning," she answered, "so, tomorrow, technically." She got up from the couch and grabbed a blanket from the entry way closet. She glanced at me, "You want a blankie?"

Smiling, I shook my head. "Nah, I'm good, thanks."

Shrugging, Serra wrapped herself up and burrowed into the couch again, feet close to my legs. I laid my head back, closing my eyes. From my spot on the couch I breathed, "I haven't seen Dean happy in a long time. I think your sister is good for him."

Nodding, Serra agreed. "When I talked to her earlier, she was smitten. That doesn't usually happen because of her psychic thing. She always feels like she either knows too much about the men she dates, or they end up trying to hide something from her." She tied her hair into a high ponytail. "Apparently, Dean's secrets aren't anything she's upset about."

"That's surprising," I said under my breath. "'Dean's got a lot of secrets, even from me."

Serra shrugged, "Well, he doesn't from her." She thought for a moment, tilting her head to the side. "Although that whole 'projecting' thing might throw a wrench into how accurate her visions are."

We were quiet for a while, listening to the wind from the storm blow the trees about. Soon, I fell asleep with Serra nestled next to me into her blanket. Her feet had buried beneath my legs, but I didn't mind. It was comforting to have someone close to me again.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Serra, the day after

Sam Winchester may have been the single most attractive man I had ever met in my life, and I had met a lot of really, really beautiful men. All of my conquests had similar features, but Sam took the cake. His hair was a little long for my taste, but his biceps and pure size _more_ than made up for it. I didn't care that he was trying to act like he wasn't interested.

He would cave eventually. They always did.

The next morning, I woke up next to him on the couch after Grace reminded me about my final in Chemistry that I was already fifty minutes late to. I would have to make it up some other time. Turning towards Sammy, I smiled, remembering the fact that he didn't pull away when I tucked my feet under his thigh. If anything, he seemed to relax, uncoiling his giant frame to be closer to me.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!" Dean shouted from the kitchen, grinning ear to ear at his brother. Too bad Grace already claimed him…I'd love to get that one alone, too. He paused for a minute, watching Sammy wake, and we all turned to stare at him. Dean lowered his voice and spoke mostly to Grace, "One big, happy family." I wondered momentarily if he knew I could hear him. That level of commitment to say something out loud was intense, considering they had only slept together for a couple of days now.

I considered this while Sam pulled himself from the couch to go find the bathroom. Watching Dean and Grace out of the corner of my eye, I wondered for a minute if Grace was playing him. It was a possibility, considering our history with men, but just from her body language alone, I knew she was genuine and it was absolutely terrifying.

Untangling myself from the couch, I shook out my hair and tried to untwist my clothes, tripping two or three times as I struggled with the blanket. I looked up and chuckled, shaking my head at the fact that my sister and her new boyfriend were staring at me.

"See, I have no shame, because you're already sleeping with her," I said to Dean, gesturing towards them vaguely with my hand.

"What about Sammy?" Dean asked, smiling from behind his coffee cup. "What would he think?"

"Why do you think I waited for him to leave?" I asked, lifting my eyebrows and smirking.

Dean lifted his coffee mug towards me, saying, "Many blessings."

…

I went upstairs to take a shower and tried my best to keep my mind focused on finishing the semester. I was so fucking close to graduating, it hurt. I washed my hair again out of habit, and then, deciding that it wasn't worth being any later to try and blow-dry it, I jogged down the steps to grab my bag and books as I wound it into a messy bun at the top of my head.

Sam was sitting at the bar, scrolling through the news on Grace's laptop like he had been last night after the rougarou. His hair was pushed back and he had shed his outermost layers, leaving his flannel and jacket on the back of the couch. I paused long enough to gasp lightly at the sight of his biceps peeking out from his short sleeved, deep V-necked shirt, as they guided his hands over the keys of the computer and continued to stare at him as he adjusted his position on the bar stool, bringing his right leg down and his left leg up. It took everything I was not to stride right up to him and push my way in between his legs to frame his face with my hands and force his lips to mine.

I realized everyone was staring at me and I grinned, not embarrassed in the slightest. "Alright, I'm going to class," I muttered. "Don't miss me too much."

Grace smiled and shook her head. "I'll be pining for you until you get back," she replied sarcastically. "I'm probably going to do some laundry later. Want me to wash anything of yours?"

I shook my head, still eyeing Sam. His neck was strained as he leaned forward to read something on the screen and I had a sudden urge to bite him. I tried not to smile as I refocused on Grace. "No," I said slowly, trying to remember what she had asked me. "I just did a load a few days ago."

She shrugged. "Okay," she sighed, heading back towards the fridge for more coffee creamer. I watched Dean check out her ass as she bent over. "See you later."

"Yeah," I agreed, turning my attention towards Sammy again. "I'll see you later, Sam Winchester," I smiled and he grinned back, nodding. My body took over and I approached him for a hug.

He stood, seemingly eager to return it and wrapped me in his strong arms. I sighed in contentment, knowing that he was still a little dirty from the rescue last night; he smelled lightly of salt and mud, combined with a bit of engine grease and coffee. I took a deep breath and turned to kiss him on the cheek, whispering, "I hope you're here later. You could help me study."

Sam stiffened, his body tensing at the pure sexuality I put into the hug as I pressed my breasts into his chest and moved my hips closer to him than they needed to be. Grace and I had been using our bodies to get our way for longer than we should have been, and it was times like these that I was grateful that I knew what to do with it.

As I pulled away, I smiled at him and shifted my gaze without moving my head. I licked my lips, tasting him after kissing his cheek, and winked as I turned and sauntered out the door. If that didn't level up his attraction, then I had no hope of bagging the younger Winchester.

…

There was nothing at school that could hold my attention and I wanted so badly to get back home to see if Sammy was still there. All physical attraction aside, it was odd how much I really wanted to be around him. He pulled me closer like a magnet and I couldn't explain it. I knew for a fact that there was no other man that had affected me the way he had.

Finally, class was over, I convinced the professor to allow me to retake the exam I missed, claiming ridiculous female issues that I knew I could press, especially since he was over fifty. He was still uncomfortable even having the idea of menstrual cycles brought up in his presence, so of course, I extorted it.

Hours later, I finally dragged myself home, exhausted from the rougarou attack as it finally caught up with me. I wanted to curl up in bed and pass out, but then Sam floated through my mind again. He put a little pep in my step and I jogged up to the door with my keys in my hand.

I opened the door and tried not to smile at the pile of people on the couch. Grace slept soundly while lying between the back of the couch and Dean's chest, her entire body more relaxed than it had been in what seemed like years. Dean was awake, watching me through heavy-lidded eyes. He smiled gently and right then, I was so insanely jealous at the speed of their relationship; I slammed the door closed to purposefully wake Grace.

She jolted awake and furrowed her eyebrows at me, shooting me daggers. I grinned sweetly and continued into the kitchen, dropping my coat, boots, and bag in a trail on my way to the kitchen, looking for the source of running water. My eyes came to rest on the top of the stove, where an empty casserole dish sat; obviously once holding meatloaf.

"You guys had meatloaf without me?" I asked, turning incredulously towards my sister and her hot stupid boyfriend on the couch.

Grace was already moving towards me and Dean readjusted his position on the couch. "I saved you some, you big baby," she answered, popping open the microwave.

I pulled it out greedily and began to eat it as I asked about their new relationship through my full mouth. She told me about Dean and Sam having some kind of argument about how fast their relationship was moving and how all of a sudden, they were apparently taking a vacation from hunting. Sammy didn't take to that well, apparently because back then, Dean made Sam drop everything he was doing in college to hunt with him. She prattled on for awhile and I tried to hold my focus on what she was saying, but Sammy came down the steps with wet hair and immediately, I turned to smile at him, basically ignoring the rest of what my sister had to say.

He smirked at me, "Hey."

I breathed through my nose, catching a whiff of my shampoo. I was barely controlled. "Hi," I replied, wanting to just drag him back upstairs and work hard at messing up his wet hair.

Sam turned to his brother, saying that he was going to go home and take a nap and I couldn't think of anything to say to keep him there without physically holding onto him, so I was forced to watch him turn and head out the door with a wave of his hand.

"Bye, Sammy!" I shouted as he closed the door.

"Ugh," Grace replied quietly. "Can you be a little less obvious?"

I narrowed my eyes at her and grabbed another slice of meatloaf. "Don't tell me what to do," I replied, sauntering upstairs with my meat. "And try to keep it down. I'm going to bed."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sam, a week in

It was getting harder and harder to even be around Serendipity without picturing myself taking her in my arms and kissing her as hard as I possibly could. She was always around when I was at the girls' house, helping Dean with research, or when they invited me over for dinner. Dean and Grace basically moved as one unit already and I tried to understand the relationship that had blossomed, pretty much overnight.

They were upstairs and I didn't have to use my imagination to figure out what they were up to, but Grace had left pieces of our meal out, intending on starting dinner when they reemerged from the bedroom. I figured, since they had included me so often, that I could at least do some of the prep work Grace planned to do.

I stood, chopping onions for dinner, as Serra sauntered into the kitchen. I didn't look up, initially, unwilling to slice my finger, but as I heard her open the door to the refrigerator, I used the door as a distraction to check her out. I almost dropped the knife I was holding when I saw that she was wearing nothing but a tight white tank top and a pair of underwear with the Wonder Woman logo on them.

She closed the door to the fridge and turned to smile at me. I tried to keep myself calm, but I was silently glad I was standing in front of the countertop.

"What'cha makin'?" she asked, leaning on the bar as she opened the beer she held.

I struggled to sort through my thoughts to form coherent words. "Um," I started, shaking my head. "Tacos. I think Grace is making tacos when she comes down."

Serra glanced at the ingredients on the counter and nodded. "Oh, yeah," she commented, nodding. "I should have guessed with the ground beef." She flicked her gaze to mine and smiled. "What's the matter with you? You're all red."

I shook her off, trying to regain control. "You do know you're not wearing any pants," I answered, gesturing with the knife.

Serendipity glanced down at herself and nodded. "Hey, you're in my house, buddy," she began. "My house, my rules." She made a face and considered it, "Well, actually, our house, Grace's rules, but my belly is not showing, so technically, I _am_ following the rules."

"Your belly has rules?" I asked, still wrestling with the situation.

She smiled and nodded. "I hate clothes, always have, but apparently, I'm not allowed to be completely naked all the time. 'No bellies downstairs' is one of Grace's rules."

"She didn't think to include anything from the waist down?"

Serra laughed. "I think as long as my ass is covered, she's okay with it."

I regained most of my composure and went back to chopping onions. "So this is something I should probably get used to, then," I added, staring at the job in front of me. I smiled, shaking my head. "Has Dean seen you like that?"

Taking a long swig of beer, Serra smiled and nodded. "Yeah," she answered, taking a step closer towards me. "He was on the couch yesterday when I came downstairs. Asked Grace for a ménage a trios."

Shaking my head and scooping the onions from the cutting board, I laughed. "That sounds about right," I replied, turning to stare at her. "Damn, you're gorgeous," I was saying before I had control. The heat found my cheeks and immediately, I looked back to the cutting board and knife sitting next to it.

She moved closer towards me, putting herself between the counter and my body, and stared at me with that penetrating hazel gaze. "You don't have to keep running," she whispered. "I won't bite. Hard."

Licking my lips, I held her gaze and I tried to remind myself why I hadn't allowed myself to pursue her. "We…" I whispered. "We shouldn't."

"Bullshit," Serra whispered back. "I know you feel it, too."

I bit my bottom lip, forcing myself to stay focused. She was right, of course…the magnetic pull I felt towards her was almost too much to take, but I knew this whole situation could get out of hand in a hurry. "Serra," I began, stepping away from her, leaving the knife on the counter. "Dean and Grace are still feeling things out. If we…let things get more complicated than they need to be, we risk compromising our siblings' happiness." I stared at her, furrowing my eyebrows and pleading with her. "I'm not going to do that to Dean. He's happy and The Mark seems to be under control. I can't risk that."

Serra pushed her index finger into my chest, harder than necessary. "Your actions have nothing to do with Dean or Grace. Her being my sister shouldn't affect what is happening between us." She stepped forward, lifting her face towards mine. Her lips begged to be kissed.

I was losing focus, so I closed my eyes, happy that I was too tall for her to reach. "Serra, please," I pleaded. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

"It wouldn't be hard at all," she whispered, still too close. "It would be easy. We wouldn't even have to tell Dean or Grace. Just don't let her touch you."

Finally, taking a deep breath, I gathered the composure I had left and lifted my hands to find her bare shoulders, forcing her to take a step back. "Serra," I said, firmer. "We can't risk what Dean and Grace have. If he loses interest, like I think he will, I will be back, and we can take it from there."

"That's not good enough," Serra said. "Grace is in it to win it, and if I know her like I think I do, they're already picking out China patterns." She pressed her teeth together in frustration, "I hate to break it to you, Winchester, but your brother is locked in for the long haul."

"You don't know Dean like I do."

"She does," Serra whispered, pressing her finger harder into my chest. "Whatever secrets you think Dean has are gone. She knows everything, and knowing that they're still up there, doing the tango, tells me that he likes it that way."

Serendipity lowered her finger and lifted herself up onto her tiptoes, reaching as far as she could towards my face. Instead of pulling away, like I was telling my body to do, I lowered my face towards her touch and she dusted the scruff of my jaw with her lips. I couldn't stop myself from closing my eyes and taking a deep breath through my nose, taking in as much of Serendipity as I could. My only saving grace was Grace herself, jogging down the steps in the living room, jarring me from the physical contact that Serra had me locked into. I jumped away from her, throwing myself towards the fridge, and opening the door, I dug through to find lettuce, tomatoes, and the shredded cheese that we would need to complete the meal.

"Hey guys," Grace greeted as I gathered myself from behind the door of the refrigerator. "Oh my God, Serra, put some pants on."

"Don't tell me what to do," was Serra's automatic response.

I could tell she hesitated from her position in the kitchen, but I refused to turn to make eye contact. That was closer than it should have been. I needed to get control.

Grace's voice was careful, "If she's annoying you, Sam, feel free to kick her ass."

I stood up to my full height and turned to face the sisters. Serra was slightly closer than Grace, and as they stared at me, I tried to sort through the feelings that were rapidly taking over my mind. "She's not annoying me," I tried to chuckle. "She's helping me get the tacos ready."

Serra's eyes followed mine, watching me through her long eyelashes. I attempted to ignore her, still smiling at Grace, who already, was suspicious. "Thanks for doing that, Sam," Grace commented slowly, turning to evaluate the kitchen.

Dean joined us after a few seconds, wiping his hands on his pants as he came into the kitchen. "Family meeting?" he asked, grinning. "What'd I miss?"

My brother locked eyes with me and I knew, right then, that Dean knew about my feelings about Serra. He was able to read me like an open book and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing him to stay quiet about it with Grace. I didn't need any more pressure, and just like any crush, I was positive that it would pass with time.

"Nothing," I replied, shrugging. "I was just gonna go wash up."

I moved to walk past Serra and she unwillingly let me go without making a scene. Dean turned to follow me, but his phone rang instead, forcing him to drop the issue and answer it, out in the living room, leaving the girls alone in the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Serra, a week in

"You have the worst fucking timing in the whole _fucking_ world," I spat at Grace as she picked up Sammy's knife and began chopping lettuce.

She turned and stared at me, her blue eyes wide. "What the hell are you talking about?" she asked, standing the blade up on its tip as she waited for my response.

I pointed towards the bathroom upstairs. "Sam. He was _this_ close," I held up my index finger and my thumb to gesture in my sister's face, "to letting me kiss him. Then you just _had_ to walk in and ruin it, just like you ruin _everything."_

Grace took a deep breath and sighed, shaking her head as she began chopping lettuce once more. "I don't ruin _anything,"_ she replied. "Sam is his own person, making his own decisions. If he isn't into you, leave him be."

"He's into me, stupid. They're always into me. It's not a matter of getting him to like me; it's a matter of getting him to cave to my advances." I turned around to get another beer. "He's convinced that Dean is going to lose interest in you and break your heart, meaning that he can't get involved with me because he doesn't want to have to choose loyalties."

Grace made a face. "I hate to break it to Sam, but Dean is in it for the long haul," she replied. "I saw that in his thoughts days ago. There's no going back now."

"I know that. You know that. I'm just trying to get Sammy to see that."

Dean came back into the room and watched us fall into a lapse of silence before he took a breath and pointed towards me. "You screw Sam yet?" he asked, grinning as he perched on the barstool across the bar from Grace.

I sighed dramatically. "No," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "He won't let me!"

"Well," Dean shrugged. "He has a weakness for books, Greek yogurt, and rabbit food. Make him a meal and offer to help organize the library back at the BatCave and you should be able to seal the deal before the sun sets."

Freezing in place and watching Dean with wide eyes, the beer bottle rested on my lips while I considered what he said. "That's a good plan. I'm gonna do that."

"Sere," Grace began, but I held up my hand at her, forcing her to stop, mid thought.

"No," I answered, shaking my head. "You already got a hot Winchester. I want one, too."

"You know how weird this sounds? Sisters, dating brothers?" Grace asked, turning towards the cupboard holding our pots and pans while simultaneously starting the front burner. She flicked her blue eyes towards Dean and raised her eyebrows. "Are you really okay with this?"

Dean nodded, lifting his eyebrows. "You can't tell me that it's not convenient," he commented. "I mean, it would be impossible to separate you two and knowing that Sammy would be well taken care of," he shrugged. "That's just gravy."

Grace narrowed her eyes and gestured towards me with the wooden spatula she held, speaking as if I wasn't standing right next to her. "She's impulsive, Dean. She's gonna use him and drop him. He's just become a conquest."

"Hey!"

She ignored me and continued to stare at her new boyfriend. "Seriously, what happens when _she_ loses interest? Poor Sam gets hooked and dropped, faster than you can say 'one night stand'." Grace turned to look at me and put her free hand on her hip in a motherly fashion. "If Dean and I are what I think we are," she flicked her eyes towards him and he pursed his lips and nodded once, confirming her own thoughts, "then how awkward does that make Sam when he's around me after you've had your way with him?"

I could hear movement upstairs and I knew I only had about another minute before Sammy headed back towards us in the kitchen. This conversation was harder when his brother sat there, just watching, but I closed my eyes and pushed forward. "He's not a conquest," I started, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't really explain it, but he's like a warm spot…like a moth to a flame, Grace. I can't get him out of my head and…" I chanced a glance towards my sister, who watched me intently with her eyebrows knitted together in genuine interest. I couldn't think of a different way to explain it, so I continued the only way I knew how. "A guy at school hit on me today," I muttered. "He was hot; beard, tall. Correctly groomed." I shook my head, swallowing hard. "It's like I couldn't even see his face."

Grace and Dean were both staring at me for different reasons. Dean would have no idea what I was talking about, but my sister knew me well enough to know that if I ignored a man, regardless of his features, there was something undeniably wrong with me. I knew that she essentially felt the same way about Dean and the entire situation scared me a little. Who were these men that seemed to have such a hold over us?

I took a deep breath and lowered my beer to the counter. "This isn't about getting what I want for a change. I want him because he feels…complete."

I watched Grace turn to glance at Dean again and she nodded. "I know the feeling," she whispered.

…

Serra

Almost five weeks in.

Another few weeks passed in a flash and Grace had to go back to work and I had to continue with my semester, but at home, it seemed that the Winchester boys never really left our sides. Sam was still holding out for reasons unknown, but the longer I was around him, the harder he fought to stay in control.

It was early February when I decided that I needed a break, some sort of stress reprieve, so I dug out the boxes of extra ammunition for my twin silver-on-black, Colt forty-five 1911s. They felt like an extension of my own body and just holding them again was comforting. I hadn't held them since the rougarou attack, but now, having no monster to chase, I was happy enough to go to the gun range across town and shoot my way through a box or three.

Skipping down the steps, lighter than I had felt in a few weeks, I tossed the boxes of ammo onto the bar and began packing my bag for the range. Sammy sat on the couch, reading through lore about Dean's Mark of Cain, still or again, I really couldn't tell these days, but he looked up and smiled at me out of habit.

"Where you going?" he asked, returning his attention to his book.

I shrugged. "Since you won't fuck me, I've gotta get my frustrations out somewhere," I replied, taking the clip out of one of my guns to check if it was full. Pivoting on my heel, I turned to see his expression.

"Serra," he sighed.

Turning back to my guns I cut him off. "Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "Whatever. I'm going to the range across town."

I heard the couch creak as he lifted himself up, walking to where I stood at the bar. He joined me at the bar, watching me clean my guns. Trying to change the subject, he gestured towards them. "They're beautiful," he whispered. "You don't see a matching set too often these days."

I nodded, refusing to look up at him as he placated me. "Yeah, well," I answered, not really knowing what else to say. "They're the only thing in my life except Grace that has never let me down."

"How long have you had them?"

Sam was closer than he needed to be and I could feel his body heat from where I stood. He smelled of our laundry detergent, (lately, the boys had just been doing their laundry here, since they were here all the time anyway), and my shampoo. I licked my lips and stayed focused on the slide of my gun. "Dad bought them for me when I was eleven," I answered. "He didn't want me left, unable to protect myself."

"Well," he murmured. "Like I said," he flicked his eyes to mine. "Beautiful."

Frustrated once again at his fake come-on, I huffed out a sigh and turned towards the door that connected to the garage. I needed at least one more box of bullets at my current frustration level, and I knew there was another case out in the garage, along with a few rags to clean and maintain my weapons. I turned the knob, expecting to be able to push the door open, but it was locked from the inside. "What the hell?" I asked, trying it once more.

"Who is it?" came Dean's voice from behind the door.

"It's me, asshat. Why is the door locked?"

I could hear Dean's footsteps as he approached the door and turned the lock, pulling it open just enough for his face to show. "What do you want?" he asked, glancing towards Sam, who stood behind me.

"I want in my fucking garage."

Dean pressed his lips together and flicked his green gaze towards his brother again. "Okay, but you have to swear to secrecy and push it from your mind when Grace is around."

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "What the hell is going on, Dean?"

He stood back and pulled the garage door open wide, exposing the entire room. At first, I didn't notice what he had been hiding, because I was concentrating on the fact that he was filthy, from head to toe. Dean had cobwebs in his hair and dirt and rust smeared across his face. He was shiny with sweat and the gray tee-shirt he wore clung to him in all the right ways. I clicked my tongue at Grace's luck.

Then, turning my attention to the tarp covered mess in the back of the garage, I gasped. "What are you _doing?"_ I asked; my voice tight. I could see parts of Dad's '71 Chevy Chevelle scattered all across the floor of the garage. The hood leaned up against the far wall and the doors were all off their hinges, lying on the ground around us. The engine was mostly dismantled and was covering our father's work bench, all individually sitting on rags and newspaper.

Dean took a shaky breath. "I know I shoulda' probably asked, but she was just…sitting there. Rotting away on the side of the house." He turned and gestured towards the expanse of the garage. "I'm rebuilding her."

"From the ground up? Completely?" I asked, my mouth hanging open.

Licking his lips nervously, Dean nodded. "Full restoration," he replied. "There was a raccoon nest in the muffler."

"Oh my God, Dean," I muttered. "I can't believe it."

I knew Dean was knowledgeable about cars, especially his prized '67 Impala, but I had no idea that he had the ability to break down an entire car and rebuild it from the ground up. I was shocked, to say the least. He stood there, waiting for me to speak, but all I could do was shake my head as I wandered into the garage, staring at all the pieces. "How are you keeping this from Grace?"

"That whole 'project nothing' that she's always going on about?" he questioned. "That does a lot for secret keeping."

I shook my head again, still breathing through my mouth. "How long have you been at this?"

"About two weeks," he replied, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Sere. If you want me to stop and put it back, I will, but…" He shook his head. "This car deserves to be driven."

I stared at the steering wheel on the ground and took a deep breath, trying not to cry. The last time I had even seen that steering wheel, we were driving home after Dad had been murdered to find Emery on the ground, lifeless, with cold, empty eyes. Grace had parked the car on the side of the house and covered it with a tarp, hiding the bitterness and memories that were attached to it. I don't know if we had ever planned on getting it running again, but it seemed to die with everyone we had held dear.

Dean was literally giving our past an overhaul, turning the bitterness and anger that may still exist a chance to change. It was the single greatest and most selfless thing anyone had ever done for us.

I turned to stare at him and took another ragged breath, striding over to where he stood and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He returned the hug immediately, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath, knowing that I held no anger or resentment for bringing up the past. "Thank you," I said into his shoulder.

"You're not mad that I'm giving it to Grace?" he whispered.

I shook my head, still holding onto him. "Not even a little. I always knew this car would be hers…she's the one that had the bond with it." I finally let go and held onto his shoulders. "I swear to God, Winchester," I started, wiping my face. "If you do all this and then haul off and leave, I will find you, but no one else ever will."

Dean chuckled, nodding. "I know you would," he answered, staring into my eyes. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm…" He faded away uncomfortably and I suddenly understood what he was trying to say.

I barely breathed, whispering, "You're in love with her." Dean's face remained stoic, but he closed his mouth and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing once in his throat. "I won't tell," I smiled lightly, hugging him again. "You're stuck with me, now."

"Yeah," he muttered into my hair. "Try not to spread it around."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sam, five weeks in

Serra was washing her face in the sink as I closed the door to the garage and let Dean get back to the Chevelle, uninterrupted. She grabbed a fresh towel and dried her face, tossing it into the laundry room at the end of the kitchen.

"You okay?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

She shot me a look and shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, Sam," she commented, her voice irritated. "I'm fine. It's nice to know that at least one of the Winchester brothers knows what he wants."

I sighed, hanging my head. "Serendipity, please stop doing that," I pleaded. "You know why we can't."

"Get over yourself, Sam," she spat. "Your commitment-phobe brother is in it to win it. He's not jumping ship anytime soon. He's rebuilding the Chevelle for her, for Christ sakes…he might as well be proposing."

I was shaking my head, "What if it doesn't work?" I asked. "What happens if they work and we don't? Think about how awful it would be to even share a room with that kind of happiness if you end up hating me."

"I'm pretty close to hating you right now," Serra added, turning towards the counter to load the rest of the ammunition into her bag. "Are you coming with me or not?"

Her sudden change in subject caught me off guard. "What?" I asked, "Coming with you where?"

"The gun range," she exclaimed, slowing her words down as if speaking to a child.

"I didn't know I was invited."

Serra gestured with one of her guns. "You keep hovering around me, so I get the feeling that you want to come," she smiled seductively, already shifting away from our argument. "You do want to come, don't you, Sammy?"

I sighed heavily, not responding to her sexual comment.

"Fine," she said, picking up her bags and heading for the door. "You can stay here and convince yourself that you don't want none of this," Serra waved her hand vaguely to the room as she grabbed her keys. As she strode out of the living room and through the door, she didn't bother closing it behind her. I took a deep breath and rolled my head from side to side, trying to ignore the fact that she left the door open as an invitation to stare at her backside as she walked away. Her black tank top rode up enough to reveal the top of a tattoo that was etched into the skin of her right hip and her long, auburn hair dusted her belt.

Serendipity was the only woman I had ever met that used her body the way she did; trying her best to get whatever she wanted from anyone.

I closed my eyes, my reserves gone, as I followed her out the door.

…

"Hey, Ray," Serra greeted as she breezed through the lobby. "My lane open?"

The man Serra called Ray turned and smiled at her, revealing two missing teeth. I made a face as I watched them interact. "Hey, Lady Luck," he answered, his voice raspy from years of smoking. "Yeah, fourteen is clear. Zombies today?"

Serendipity shook her head. "Nah," she said, leaning on the counter. "Just the regular, boring targets," she glanced at me, pointing with her thumb. "I don't want to make him look too bad."

Ray turned to smile at me and I nodded in greeting. "Brought a boyfriend today, huh?" he wheezed. "Don't matter how long you been shooting, boy," he continued. "She'll outshoot you with her pretty eyes closed."

I chuckled, enjoying this man's bond with Serra. She had obviously been coming to this shooting range for a long time. "Yeah," I agreed. "We'll see."

Serra grinned as she pushed her hair behind her ears. She signed all the appropriate releases and Ray bent below the counter to pull out brand-new looking ear protection. The ear muffs were bright purple. She turned to me and raised her eyebrows, asking, "You want a new pair? Ray will keep them under the counter for you. No germs."

"You're a germaphobe now, too?"

Serra shrugged. "I don't like other people touching me."

I laughed as I reached for the headset. "Thanks," I replied, nodding again to Ray. "How much?"

Ray shook me off. "No charge for Luck's new boyfriend."

Trying not to roll my eyes, I followed her into the range and put on my ear protection. She headed straight for stall fourteen and unloaded everything, laying out her boxes of ammunition and her matching 1911s. I couldn't hear much of what was happening, so I allowed myself simply to watch her movements and how fluidly she seemed to know this particular dance. Hanging the target from the clip in her stall, she pushed the release and it sailed back, heading towards the wall in the distance. About fifty yards away, she stopped it and turned to smile at me, and offered one of her guns.

I shook my head and pointed at her, wanting her to take the first round. She nodded and pressed her lips together and gently pushed me aside, raising both of her guns.

Serendipity was petite and standing at her full height, she only came up to my chest. She was little, sure, but she was muscular; her arms were toned and her hips curved into a perfect hourglass. As she set her feet, she took a deep breath and as she exhaled, she fired four times from each gun. I watched all eight rounds hit the center of the target, one after another, and my mouth fell open. Serra hit the target eight times through the same hole.

Whipping my head down to face her, I stared in awe and she grinned at me, extending one of her guns. "Your turn," she said, though I could only hear a muffled version of the sentence.

I took her gun in my hand and felt the balance. They were truly a work of art. Patterns of intricate roses and vines were engraved along the barrel and the edge of the grip, and as she watched me, she shrugged out of her flannel, revealing another tattoo across her shoulder that disappeared beneath the edge of her tank top. The roses on her shoulder more than resembled the roses on her guns and I tried to remember to breathe as she stepped closer to me once more.

Serra pulled the earmuffs away from her face on one side, propping it behind her ear as I did the same. "They're amazing, right?" she asked, nodding towards the guns. "They'll shoot anything, too: silver or lead. No jams."

I nodded and could appreciate how important that was in a hunter's life. "Incredible," I added. "And so is your aim. I've never seen something like that."

"Give it a shot," she replied. "I won't judge you when you're not as good as me."

"I don't think anyone is as good as you," I answered offhandedly. I didn't notice the rosy glow from her cheeks after I complemented her. We both put our ear muffs back over our ears and I took a deep breath, steadying myself to try and get half of the shots that Serra did.

I exhaled and fired four rounds, but clustered them in the center circle of the bull's eye. She grinned up at me. "Not bad," she commented.

There was a teasing tone to her voice and I shook my head, trying not to fall prey to her relentless flirting. "Thanks," I sighed, a smile still finding my lips. I stepped back and allowed her to take my place in the stall and as she took the gun from my hand, I slowed my movements to let her hand graze mine. The magnetic attraction was still there and I could feel the warmth from her fingertips as watched the exchange.

"We'll get past this," I breathed, hoping that she wouldn't be able to hear me.

Serra flicked her gaze up to me, swallowing hard. "No, we won't," she answered.

I licked my lips, but was unable to pull my gaze away from hers. There was no command that my body wanted to respond to and it seemed to be making decisions on its own. I leaned down as if I was going to kiss her, but I stopped, eyelashes away from contact. "I'll bet you a beer that I can outshoot you in fifty rounds," I said, lifting my eyebrows challengingly.

The rosy glow in her cheeks told me that she wanted me to make contact, but her competitive streak took over. "Make it a case," she breathed, blinking slowly.

We were non-stop, taking turns in the stall to riddle each target full of holes. Serra had a lucky first target and hadn't repeat of her miracle one-hole shots since the beginning. We danced around each other, trying to distract the other while they were firing and I had her particularly rattled on our final round of targets.

Serra squared her shoulders, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead from the heat of the room and the intensity of our contest. She took a deep breath as she lined up the shot and I slowly leaned forward, brushing her cheek with my lips. She fired twice, then turned abruptly, pulling away to stare at me. I was surprised at myself for having made the physical contact, but at the moment, regretted nothing. We simply stared at each other for longer than we could take and I finally closed the gap, forcing her lips to mine.

Serra didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, still with one of her guns in her hand. We breathed through our noses, hitting each other's ear muffs and Serra tried to rip hers from her head, but as she did so, the warning lights came on and the buzzer echoed through the range.

My mind finally caught up with my body and I pulled away from her, standing as far as I could before hitting the wall on the opposite side of the stall, staring at Serendipity.

"Last target!" the announcer came over the intercom. "Closing time is in fifteen minutes."

We were both breathing heavily and I pulled off my blue ear muffs and let them fall to the bag at my feet. I licked my lips, still tasting her, and shook my head. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I'm not," she replied, trying to move towards me again.

I held out my hand. "No, Serra. This doesn't change anything."

Serendipity shook her head and set her jaw. "The fuck it doesn't," she argued. "Stop lying to yourself, Sammy. We're both miserable."

"We'll figure it out," I pressed. "We can both be adults about this."

"The fuck we can."

She began tossing the remainder of the bullets into her bag and wrapped her guns in the microfiber cloths she brought with them. Her face was red, her lips were pressed together, and she was doing everything she could to ignore me. Without another word, Serra stormed out of the stall and headed back into the lobby. Closing my eyes, I realized what a huge mistake I had just made. I shook my head and rubbed my face with both of my hands, trying to get a grip on the situation. Finally, I turned on the ball of my foot and followed her out into the lobby.

"Hey, new boyfriend," Ray greeted as I came out into the lobby. "Lady Luck moves faster than you."

"I'm not her boyfriend," I muttered, shaking my head.

Ray argued, "The fuck you say."

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" I asked, heading for the door.

"Because it don't take no idjit to see how you were looking at her," Ray commented. "You must'a done somethin' stupid, too. She stormed outta here like she had the devil chasin' her."

I closed my eyes and sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I shouldn't have kissed her," I murmured, mostly to myself.

"You sayin' you not a couple, but you go and kiss her?" Ray asked, still wheezing.

I simply stared at him, not really understanding why I was answering to an overly-large bald man with asthma. I remained silent, waiting.

"You a new kinda stupid, ain't you?"

I rolled my eyes and pushed my way through the glass doors in time to see Serra peeling rubber out of the parking lot, leaving me alone with my regret in the middle of the asphalt.

…

A solid forty-five minutes passed before I finally admitted that I needed to call someone for a ride. I probably considered calling a cab for about thirty seconds, but I realized that I only had three bucks in my pocket, with no credit cards. Instead, I meandered down the street to the drug store at the end of the road, getting myself a banana and a cup of coffee with the last three dollars I had to my name.

I glanced at the screen on my phone and shook my head, still kicking myself for being so stupid with Serra. How could I have let myself get that close to her? What was I thinking, leading her on like that? There was still no chance with her, considering I would have to let my guard down long enough to let her get close, and considering that every woman that I got comfortable with seemed to meet an unfortunate end, it didn't seem like something I could commit to. Besides, I was still terrified of getting into any kind of romantic relationship with someone related to Dean's girlfriend…it just seemed like a messy situation that I wanted no part of.

Finally, I flipped open my phone and dialed Dean's number.

"What?" he answered, obviously busy with something.

"I need you to come pick me up from the range."

Dean grunted said, "Where is Luck?"

"It's a long story," I said, closing my eyes and shaking my head. "She's gone."

My brother's attention was grabbed. He stopped whatever he was doing and focused his attention on me. "What do you mean, gone? What did you do, Sam?"

Squeezing my eyes shut and making a face, I replied, "I might have kissed her."

"Goddammit, Sam."

"I know, I know!" I shouted into the phone. "You don't need to rub it in."

Dean was silent, but returned to working. "I swear to all that's holy, Sam," Dean growled, hammering something in the background, "if you fucked this up, I will never forgive you."

"I didn't fuck anything up," I muttered. "I just…lost control for a minute. I'm fine. We're fine. She was just pissed enough to leave me here. That's why I need a ride."

"No can do, hombre," Dean replied. "I've still got about an hour before Grace comes home and the Chevelle's engine block is in four pieces right now. I still need to clean it all up and tarp it again before she gets here." He paused, hammering once again. I held the phone away from my face and waited as patiently as I could. "Call Grace. Her school is over that way and she can swing by and get you. That way _you_ can explain to her in person why her sister is pissed at _you_ and why it has nothing to do with _me_."

Dean hung up the phone without another word and I was left, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, debating on calling Grace.

I could probably walk back to the girls' house from where I was, but it was over eight miles. I didn't know if I had that kind of patience. "Fine," I sighed, flipping my phone back open. "Suck it up. Call Grace," I muttered. "It's not gonna be that bad."

…

"Let me get this straight," Grace sighed when I sat down in the passenger seat. "She gets you to go to the range, you flirt with each other for two hours straight, and then you are stupid enough to kiss her, even though you've told her over and over that it's not gonna happen between you two."

I rubbed my face with both of my hands, refusing to look at her. "I know!" I whined. "God, Grace, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking with the wrong head," she sighed, disappointedly. Grace turned back towards the wheel of her car and threw it into first gear, peeling out of the parking lot. As she drove, she shook her head, but continued talking and I did what I could not to argue with her.

"Look," she explained. "I get why you don't think it will work. I understand that you think Dean is still a flight risk, but the bottom line is that I have seen the truth in every aspect possible."

"But I—"

"Regardless," she interrupted, holding up her finger. "You and Serra have nothing to do with me and Dean. We are all adults and if you give it a shot and it doesn't work, you would only have to worry about losing your life or your balls for the first week or so. She would get over it and move on."

I shook my head, trying to get that thought out of my head. "Grace," I tried again. "This was a mistake. I didn't go to the range with her thinking that I would kiss her. I didn't plan on this."

"You need to stop explaining yourself to me and start telling it to Serra."

I bit my bottom lip, staring out the passenger window. "I don't even know where to start."

We drove in silence for a bit and Grace's anger towards me seemed to fade. About a mile away from the girls' house, we got stopped by a train and she turned to face me, narrowing her piercing blue eyes. She considered me for a minute and I braced for another round of lecturing, but Grace reached out with her hand to touch mine. Before I could pull my hand away, Serendipity's sister was reading my mind through her touch and there was nothing I could do about it.

After about three or four seconds, Grace refocused back on my face and took a deep, ragged breath. "I thought it was just her. Why are you fighting it?"

"What did you see?"

She didn't answer me. Instead, Grace turned so she was facing the steering wheel once more and shook her head. "Stop being an idiot, Sam," she sighed. It was then I realized how similar the Browning sisters were, and how far up shit creek I really was.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Serra, six weeks in

I had barely even looked at Sam in a week. Everything he did irritated me; he would breathe too loudly or flip the pages of his fucking books too quickly. There was nothing he could do to make me happy. I slammed down my pile of books and chemistry notes onto the bar and sat, huffing out the lung full of air I had.

"What the hell is your problem?" Grace asked, turning towards me as she washed dishes. I saw with irritation that she sported a brand new hickey on the side of her neck, just below her ear.

"A hickey? Really? What are you, sixteen?"

She blushed and reached to her neck, dripping soapy water across her shirt. "It's not a hickey," she murmured. "Don't be jealous because he bit me. It was hot."

"Whatever," I grunted; sitting at the bar and putting my head on the counter while letting my arms fall to my sides. "At least you're getting some."

Grace dried her hands and came towards me. She lowered her face and tilted her head sympathetically. "You don't think you're gonna get over him?" she asked. "You can't just go out and screw someone else and move on with your life?"

I shut my eyes and tried to force Sam's face from my mind. Without moving my head, I answered, "For awhile, I thought it was just a crush, you know?" I sighed, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. This feeling was so out of the ordinary for me, so foreign, it scared me. "But it's like; I can't get him out of my head…and then whatever the fuck that was at the range." I turned my face towards my sister. "He's under my skin, always pulling me towards him. When he's close to me, it's like I can feel it in my chest." I picked my head up from the bar and licked my lips. "When he kissed me, Grace…it…" I swallowed, trying to find the words.

"It's like the stars aligned and everything was quiet, just for you," Grace supplied. I flicked my gaze to follow my sister's movements. "It's like you were missing a part of yourself and you didn't know until he touched you."

Everything she was saying was true and I hated it. I hated that I was utterly obsessed with another human being and nothing I could say would convince my mind that I was wrong. I nodded once.

"I…" I hesitated, rubbing my face, not believing that I was about to say it out loud. "I think I'm love with him, Grace."

Nodding, Grace took my hand, squeezing it once after her initial three seconds of thoughts and memories from my brain played out in hers. I had been working hard not to think of the Chevelle that Dean had in pieces in the garage, but I was so obsessed with Sam at the moment, that I didn't have to try too hard.

"I know you are, Lucky."

"Why doesn't he love me back?"

Grace lowered herself onto her elbows and moved closer towards my face, holding my hands with both of hers. "You don't know that he doesn't," she whispered. " _He_ kissed _you_. Maybe you just need more time."

I closed my eyes and lowered my face, staring at the marble countertop. "It's been six weeks. How much more time could he need?"

…

Sam, six weeks in

I lay on the bed in my room, back at the BatCave, trying not to think about Serendipity. There was movement coming from Dean's room, down the hallway, so in an attempt to distract myself, I stood and stretched, heading for my brother's room.

"Hey," I greeted, leaning on the door frame.

He looked up, "Hey." There was a duffle on his bed and he was rolling up jeans and shirts, stuffing them into the bag in a neater-than-I-was-used-to fashion. He was still calm, happy, and easy going, telling me that Grace was still keeping The Mark of Cain at bay, though how she was doing it, I had no idea.

"What are you doing?" I asked, crossing my arms.

Dean took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm tired of having to get clothes all the time and Grace emptied one of her dressers."

"You're moving in?"

"Not officially," Dean replied, shrugging. "She offered the dresser so I could stop having to come all the way out here for a new shirt. Besides," he continued, rolling another pair of jeans, "we're together all the time anyway. Might as well make it convenient."

I nodded. "Yeah, sure."

We stood in silence for a bit and I marveled at how easily my brother had adapted to domestication. We had been on the road so long, it didn't occur to me that he even knew how to live like that, but he did. Grace still had no idea about the Chevelle, but Dean had confided to me that he would begin looking for a mechanic's job in Lawrence once the Chevelle was done. I had been floored.

"So," Dean began. "What's up with you and Little?"

I took a deep, shuddering breath and unfolded my arms. "What has Grace told you?"

"That you made out with her at the gun range last week," he replied, zipping up the duffle and turning around to face me. "Dude, you can't lead her on like that. If you wanna bang her, bang her, but don't make out with her and then ignore her for a week. No one can live like that, not even you."

"Dean," I replied, feeling myself begin to whine.

"No," he stopped me, holding out his hand. "I don't know what's stopping you anymore. I could see from your perspective when this whole thing with Grace started, but it's been six weeks, the novelty hasn't worn off, I'm committed for the first time in my life, and you're sitting there on the bench." He licked his lips and gestured towards the door. "You're a mess, dude. You're not sleeping, you're not even eating your rabbit food crap, and now, you're hiding out here?"

"What if it doesn't work? What happens if she and I break up, even though you and Grace are still together?" I changed my tactic. "Or, what happens if we work and you and Grace break up?"

"Me and Grace are gonna die together, far as I'm concerned."

"You don't know that."

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, you said that when we started dating, but I can tell you right now: that girl is what I live and breathe. If we ever broke up, Sammy, you might as well salt and burn my corpse, because there wouldn't be anything left."

I stared at him.

"You need to figure your shit out with Serra. You're both miserable and you're starting to drag us into your doomsday pit of despair."

With that, he slung his duffel over his shoulder, and after flicking the light switch off, Dean strode out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Serra, six and a half weeks in

I was hungry.

Grace was at work and Dean was off, trying to find an appropriate replacement for some part of the Chevelle that he couldn't repair himself. He had mentioned through the bathroom door as I showered that he would be gone all day because it was at an auto parts store up in Des Moines and to cover for him if Grace went looking.

I didn't give a shit where Sam was.

After my mid-morning's shower, I headed downstairs in my usual tank and undies, dancing around to the radio as it filled the house with a comforting mix of classic and current rock. I cleaned for awhile; knowing how stressed out Grace was around this time of the year with her classroom, and as I wrapped the cord back around the vacuum, I decided that I had done enough to be noticed and get my verbal pat on the head from my sister about a job well done. It was time to make some food.

As I cleaned and cooked, I had convinced myself that Sam was just someone that I would have to teach myself to get over, especially since I now lived in a constant state of sexual and emotional frustration. There was no way I could continue to live my life that way, and now that I knew how happy Grace and Dean were, I would just have to figure it out when it came to Sam. I would never be able to escape him; he would always be around, rubbing it in that I hadn't gotten him to cave. In the coming weeks, I decided, I would have to go out and snag me a man, just to get over that first hurdle of losing my battle when it came to the younger, stupider Winchester.

Asshole.

I didn't hear the front door open. I didn't notice him standing at the far end of the living room and watch me as I danced around and sang to my favorite song. Guns 'n Roses was the only band that could make me feel as good as a man, so if this is where I had to begin to get over Sam, then that is what I would do. As 'Paradise City' pounded through the living room and kitchen, I could feel it in my very soul.

The next thing I knew, Sammy came out of nowhere and was rushing me, turning my entire body by my shoulders and reaching for my face. He caught me off guard and I gasped slightly, almost moving into fight or flight, but after realizing that it was him, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

"What are you—" I gasped, staring into his face.

"Shut up," he breathed and crashed his lips to mine.

The stars aligned and the clouds parted and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was breathing. Sammy pushed his over-sized hands through my still-damp hair and attacked my neck, his tongue dancing over my skin and his teeth finding my earlobe.

 _Take me down to the paradise city_

 _Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty_

Sam returned his lips to mine and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling myself as close as I possibly could, wrapping one of my legs around his waist. He lifted me from the ground and shifted so that I was almost sitting on top of the counter and I wrapped my other leg around his hip, fumbling for his belt.

 _Oh won't you please take me home_

He was all hands as he gave up trying to support my weight up against the counter and spun, allowing us both to collapse onto the kitchen floor, splaying them across my bare back as he lifted my tank top. I tried again to unbuckle his belt, but I couldn't make my fingers cooperate and he ended up swatting my hand away and wriggled out of his jeans without my help.

 _Rags to riches or so they say_

 _You gotta keep pushin' for the fortune and fame_

 _You know it's all a gamble when it's just a game_

 _Ya treat it like a capital crime_

Sammy lost his shirt somewhere in the process and between my gasping for air and the electric sizzle that rattled through my entire body; he tugged off my panties, dropping them on the floor next to us. He pulled back to stare at me, with his hand supporting my head and through our heavy breathing, I gasped, "What the hell took you so long?"

He shook his head, his long stupid hair shaggy around his face. He smiled; his cheeks tugging his deep dimples into his cheeks. "I don't know," he breathed. "Forgive me?"

"We'll see."

Sammy bent to crush his lips to mine once again, our tongues dancing together as Axl Rose helped us find our rhythm. The beat pounded through my body as Sam and I finally became one; my nails dragging across his back and digging into his skin. His face was flushed with effort and I squeezed my eyes shut, reveling in the victory I felt, not because I finally got him to cave, but because it felt better than I thought it would. It could have been hours or days, I really had no idea, but it was as if we were puzzle pieces, fitting together perfectly, and as he moved his arms to pin mine to the floor above me, he pushed into me a final time and we were blinded by pure adrenaline-filled ecstasy. I didn't remember screaming out, but as I gasped for air, my throat was tight and I was almost shaking with relief.

Sammy didn't roll off of me immediately, like so many men did in the past, but he reached up to my face, releasing my arms, and brushed the renegade strand of hair off of my cheek. He kissed me gently where his fingertips had dusted my face and smiled gloriously at me.

"Better late than never, right?" he asked; his voice barely above a whisper.

I shook my head, still catching my breath. "What made you…why'd you change your mind?" I asked.

Sammy bent closer, his hair tickling my forehead and my cheeks. "I would rather have to work through the pain after the fact, if it didn't work, than to keep fighting the pull for my own selfish reasons," he explained.

I smiled and lifted my eyebrows. "You're saying it's not gonna work?" I asked, hiding my grin.

"Shut up," he said again, lowering his head to kiss me again.

Behind us, the pot of water I had set on the stove boiled over, but there was not a bone in my body that cared. I wrapped my arms around Sammy's bare shoulders, feeling the muscle laced beneath his skin and for the first time in my life, felt truly safe. There was only Sam Winchester; every other man in the world disappeared at that moment and I couldn't remember a time before he existed in my life.

 _Oh won't you please take me home_

…

Sam

Day 1 together

I helped Serra off the floor after cleaning ourselves up, and turned in a complete circle, looking for all of the articles of clothes we had shed during our interlude in the kitchen. She handed me the pair of jeans that I had dropped and I turned off the burner on the stove, commenting, "The water is almost completely evaporated." I glanced at her and smiled. "Guess we were down there awhile."

Serendipity grinned at me, her hair still askew from being on the floor of the kitchen with the floor mat rolled and wedged under her head as a pillow. She pulled her tank top back down and used me as a brace as she tugged on her underwear. "I was gonna make pasta, but after that, I'm gonna need something a little more substantial."

I chuckled, feeling none of the usual after-the-first-time awkwardness that I usually felt around a girl. It was as if she was a magnet that I had been orbiting around because it was facing the wrong way. All we needed was a little flip.

The speech that Dean had given me in the Men of Letters bunker was finally what hit home. I knew that he and Grace were in it for the long haul and I couldn't imagine trying to live my life in that kind of denial, especially with our families dancing around each other for the rest of our lives. If it didn't work, we would cross that bridge when we got there, but for now, Serra was all I wanted. I felt like she was all I ever wanted, for the rest of my life, but I tried not to get ahead of myself.

She turned towards the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing me one after she opened it on the bottle opener near the garage door. Smiling, Serra flicked her gaze to me. "I have never felt so satisfied in my entire life," she sighed. "I'm probably gonna get ahead of myself, but we're gonna do that again in about an hour."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm surprised it's not planned for sooner," I replied.

"I'm still hungry," Serra shrugged. "You interrupted my meal schedule."

She bent to dig in the pantry for a box of pasta and I couldn't stop myself from touching her hips and her waist, begging for her to turn and kiss me again.

"Hey, hey, hey," Serra said, holding out her index finger. "You made me wait six weeks. You can wait another hour or so for food. I need food."

I touched her again, turning her body towards mine and pulling her close. I kissed her, just to spite her, and as she let her head fall back to stare at me, she shook her head. "If I get hangry, it's your own damn fault."

"Hangry?" I made a face, considering her word. "What is that...hungry and angry?"

Serra smiled and nodded. "Food is very important to me," she began. "Sometimes more important than sex, like right now."

I chuckled again, releasing my hold on her. "Fine," I sighed. "Eat your food."

"You could take me out, you know," she sighed. "Like, on a real date. So that we're kinda legit."

I couldn't stop the smile from sliding across my face. Serra was addictive and I realized that I would do anything to make her happy. I shook my head lightly, realizing I now knew exactly how my brother felt. With Serendipity, I finally felt like I was home.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Serra, Day 1 together

It was like a missing piece of me had been found. I'm not one to be sappy and emotional about anything, but Sam Winchester was now who I was living and breathing. He was the sun in my solar system and I somehow orbited around him.

I would never voluntarily admit it out loud.

He followed me like a puppy dog as we went upstairs to get presentable, but he was still all hands, touching my waist and turning me at the top of the steps to kiss me again. I pulled away from him, still grinning. "You promised me food," I commented, holding up a finger.

"Jesus, you're a tease," Sam breathed, letting his head fall forward as I turned back towards my room to change my clothes. I left a trail as soon as I opened the door, leaving my tank top and shorts on the floor as I dug through my dresser and grabbed a black, low-cut, v-neck top and tugged it on over my still-damp hair and grabbed my favorite pair of denim shorts. I sat down to put on my most comfortable pair of cowboy boots on while Sammy stood in the doorway to watch.

"How long have you had the tattoo?" he asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

I glanced up at him and narrowed my eyes. "Which one?"

Sam came into my room, watching where he stepped so as not to tread on anything on the floor. "How many do you have?" he asked, tilting his head.

I stood and turned, lifting my shirt up and over my shoulders once more. "Grace and I got the same shoulder piece when I turned eighteen and the clover and horseshoe are from around the same time. Grace's dove is up there, too." I turned so that my ribs were aimed at him and smiled, "Then there's one of the twins." I pointed to the Colt 1911 that was tattooed in excellent detail on my rib cage that matched one of my silver-on-black Colts that I prized so highly.

Sam reached out to touch the ink emblazoned on my side and I could feel the electric tingle from his fingertips. He smiled at me and shook his head. "Little rebel," he commented. "I only have the one."

"Oh, I'm not done," I breathed, turning again. "This one is my favorite." I unbuttoned my shorts to pull them and my underwear down enough for Sam to see the revolver, roses, and lace that were etched into my hip and thigh. "It starts up here," I gestured, "but it goes all the way down." And I pulled the leg of my shorts up enough for him to see the entire piece.

He reached out, almost involuntarily, towards my hip and put his hands across the lace, pulling me closer towards him, kissing my neck as he did so. I struggled to stay in control. "Where are we going to eat?" I asked, closing my eyes and sighing.

"We'll go after," Sam was muffled as he pushed me down onto my bed, sending me into a fit of giggles. "We can't go anywhere yet."

His large hands swatted mine away from my jean shorts, tugging them down as he simultaneously dropped his jeans into a puddle at his feet. Sam pushed my hair from my face as he kissed me again, sighing through his nose in contentment. I tried to feign protest, but when he held my hands above my head, pinning them to the mattress to kiss me once more, my reserves were gone.

…

"You didn't even give me a chance to take my boots off," I sighed as I sat up again, smoothing my hair with my hands and staring down at the man on my tiny bed.

Sam grinned up at me, dimples deep in his cheeks. "You're welcome," he sighed, putting his hands behind his head smugly.

I stood and sauntered into the bathroom down the hall in just my black top and boots, making Sam chuckle as he watched me walk away. "I'm gonna pee," I began over my shoulder, "and then if you don't feed me, I might have to pound on you a little bit."

Sitting up in bed, Sam nodded and said, "Deal."

We were finally driving towards the diner that I loved so much about twenty minutes later, all smiles and windblown hair.

…

"I feel like this should be weird," I was saying through a mouthful of mac and cheese, sitting across from Sammy at my favorite diner. "But it's not. I don't think it's weird. Do you?"

Sam was shaking his head before I had a chance to finish my sentence, his long hair falling into his face. He tucked it behind his ear as his light hazel eyes found mine. "I thought it would be too, but…" he smiled and raised his eyebrows. "I feel like this is just how it was supposed to be: Dean with Grace and me with you."

I licked my lips and picked up a fry. "But siblings dating each other? Isn't there some law against it or something?"

"I'm pretty sure that's for siblings dating siblings…you know, from the same family." He laughed and shrugged. "I don't know, Sere," he sighed. "Don't you think this feels right?"

It took everything I was not to admit that he was everything that I had ever wanted, but I restrained, not wanting to sound too overly feminine. "Yeah," I agreed, nodding. "It feels…it feels more than right."

Sammy stared at me and then down at his plate of food. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

"Yeah," I continued, nodding and lifting my eyebrows into my hairline. "That's on you."

I grinned and went back to my food, licking my fingers occasionally. I didn't notice that he was watching me from across the table, his dimples pulled into his cheeks from smiling so deeply.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Serra, Around five months with Sammy.

Sam and I had been together for about five months, meaning Grace and Dean had been together for around eight. We had fast become one big, happy family, but shit hit the fan when Grace had her vision about the stalker. Since then, Dean had been on edge, waiting for when the big, ugly troll would end up showing his fat, stupid face and beat the shit out of everyone. I was too, but I knew that I would at least get a few good hits in before he knocked me out. We just had to wait and see.

The waiting was awful. I felt like I had to puke all the time and nothing that Grace said made any difference. We were cooking dinner one night while the boys were doing laundry. Sammy had just taken a load from the dryer and was dumping it on the couch to fold it and I noticed with a smile that my clothes were mixed in with his.

"Oh my God," Grace whispered from her spot in front of the stove.

"What?" I asked, leaning towards her.

She grinned, shaking her head. "You're basically glowing," she chuckled. "God, you're not pregnant, are you?"

The fear dripped through my spine before I realized that she was making fun of me. "Holy fuck, Grace, don't _do_ that." Sammy turned towards us as we whispered conspiratorially and I lowered my voice. "You're the same way with Dean."

"I don't try and hide it," Grace answered, shrugging. "Dean's the only one that has a hard time saying it out loud. It's a little ridiculous how much you two are alike…so secretive about your feelings."

"You guys are quiet again," Dean declared as he carried a load of dirty clothes towards the mudroom. "You're gonna have to speak up. I can't hear you from in here."

Grace turned towards her boyfriend and lifted her eyebrows, speaking loudly, as if addressing someone that was hard of hearing. "I said that you hide your feelings! You're so secretive about your love for me!"

Looking away, Dean's face flushed. "Alright, alright," he replied, holding up his hands. "I got it. Never ask."

She giggled and turned back towards me. "I don't know why you're hiding it, pretending to be all tough and never admitting it." Grace nodded towards Sam, "We all know that you're stupid for him."

"Love is weakness," I grumbled, mostly to myself.

"So you admit what I've seen in your mind," Grace answered. "I knew it. You love him."

My eyes flicked towards Sammy and I held out my hand, reaching for Grace's mouth. "Holy mother—" I began. "Shut up."

"Just tell him and get it over with. It's not like it's just you."

"Just tell him what?" Sam asked, shaking out a pillowcase. "Are you talking about me, now?"

Grace raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, waiting.

"Nothing," I shook my head, waving him off. "Don't worry about it."

Stirring the water on the stovetop as she poured rice into the boiling pot, Grace took a deep breath and stared right at Sam, saying, "She's in love with you." In one motion, I turned and hit her shoulder hard enough to hurt my hand. She turned and stared at me, deadpan, still stirring the rice. "You hit me again and you will forever be on your own for food."

Sam let his mouth hang open ever so slightly as the embarrassment flooded my face. Dean silently moved over enough so that we could see him standing behind Sammy as a smug look crept across on his face. I had no idea what to do. Grace wasn't lying about anything that was happening, but at the same time, it's not like I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

"Why do you get to say it for me, but not for Dean!"

"Because I know for a _fact_ that you would die before you said it first. At least I have heard Dean _think_ it." Grace was standing with her hands on her hips, gesturing with the wooden spoon she held. "Sam can't hear you think!"

"I can't hear him think, either!" I shook my head, trying to figure a way out of this, but nothing I came up with involved me staying in the room. Every situation I could come up with ended with me in my car, driving away. "Sammy didn't have to be forced into saying it!"

"Alright, fine," Grace answered. She gestured towards Sam and shrugged. "He's in love with you, too," she commented, still holding the dripping wooden spoon. "There. Everyone is on an even playing field."

Dean reached up and clapped his brother on the back. "Mazel tov," he chuckled. Sam turned slightly, giving Dean a dangerous glance. Immediately, the elder stepped away, trying his best to hide his grin.

"Can we just admit that Dean is in love with Grace, too? And vice versa?" Sam asked, pointing towards the other couple.

Their faces reddened as well, but I grinned, finally happy that the situation had been turned on my sister.

…

"It's been awhile since I kicked your ass," I said, my mouth full of food as we watched another rerun of 'Lost.' I gestured to the TV with my fork, "We've seen this episode like, six times. We get it. They're stuck on the island again…or still."

Grace laughed, shaking her head as she rested her legs up on the coffee table, leaning into Dean. "We've been a little busy for sparring practice," she commented quietly.

The boys watched us interact and I grinned, waggling my eyebrows. "Yeah, well," I said, leaning forward to put my empty bowl on the table. "We're both on summer break now, so when I knock you out, tomorrow you can spend the day recovering from your concussion."

"Mighty fierce words from someone who ends up on their ass every time," Grace argued, tilting her head.

I rolled my eyes, standing from the chair. "Let's go, old lady. We can put the mats out in the yard, turn the floods on and have our own heavyweight championship."

"Age and treachery will always beat youth and exuberance," Grace replied, smiling at me sweetly.

"Wait," Dean stopped me in my tracks. "Are you talking about you two sparring? Is that something you do?"

I turned to him and made a face, "Uh, yeah," I began. I stood back and gestured to my body. "How do you think we look this fucking good?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a look as Grace stood to stretch. She turned to face Dean and explained, "We've been too involved in screwing you two every chance we get to have any time to practice."

"Oh, this," Dean pushed himself from the couch and shook his head. "This I'm gonna be a part of."

Sam immediately chimed in his agreement. "Yeah, I'm in," he commented, following Grace into the kitchen. He glanced back at me and raised his eyebrows. "What kind of sparring are we talking about? Fighting? Wrestling?"

I rolled my eyes, knowing the boys had already taken this conversation and turned it sexual. I shrugged as I pulled my hair into a ponytail at the top of my head and watched Grace do the same. "It's pretty much no holds barred," I answered. "No hair pulling, no tit shanking. That's pretty much it."

"Let's go, little girl," Grace said, gesturing to the back door. "I'll get the mats."

I threw a look to Dean, trying to get him to stop her from stepping closer to the garage. "It's okay," I said, shaking my head at her, "I'll get them." I turned towards Dean and tilted my head. "We have boyfriends now," I commented, feeling victorious. "They could get them."

Dean caught the hint almost immediately and nodded. "Oh, yeah, sure," he agreed. "Me and Sammy will pull 'em out."

Grace nodded her gratitude and opened the door to our backyard. The sun was still hanging low in the sky, but she flipped on the outside lights and the yard flooded again with light. "Grab the sticks, too," she yelled to Dean and Sam who were digging around in the garage, ensuring Grace didn't discover the still-in-pieces Chevelle that was scattered all over the room. Dean was getting closer to reassembling, but it was hard when he could only work a few hours at a time, had to clean up each night, and had no steady income to speak of. I was impressed that he was sticking with it at all.

The boys carried the wrestling mats out onto the grass and tossed them down. Grace grinned, pulling the mat closest to her open and stomping it down over the overgrown weeds. "You want some music?" she asked. "That way you can be comforted with song as I hold your ass to the ground?"

I shook my head and chuckled. "The system is warming up. I'll push play in a minute."

"You have a sound system in the house?" Sam asked. "With speakers outside?"

Grace and I turned towards him, nodding slowly. "Yeah," Grace replied. "The house came with one of those Hi-Fi systems from the seventies. Dad upgraded it when CDs came out."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "I gotta ask," Sammy began, holding out his hands. "Where did the house come from? How did your family have a house when you were hunting full time?"

I smiled at him and winked as the stereo began to play, pumping a baseline into the backyard. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I asked.

"Oh shut up," Grace laughed. "It's not that big of a deal. We didn't kill anyone for it, if that's what you're asking." She rolled her head from side to side as the music began to wake up her adrenaline. It was our old-school workout mix that we had been using for about a decade; 'Shoop,' by Salt 'n Pepa was our first item on the playlist. Grace went up onto her tip toes and bounced a few times, getting ready as I began to circle her. "Our family came from money," she explained, watching me. "We're related to the Browning rifle company, way back, somehow. We've got stock and Dad had some sort of account set up that matured when we each turned twenty-five. He bought the house when we lost Mom as kind of a way to keep us in one place." She made a face. "Pretty sure he blew the last of the fortune on it, but at least it's paid for."

Sam nodded, glancing at Dean who smiled slyly. "We got girls with money," he commented under his breath. "Does that make them our 'sugar mommas'?"

"You know it," Grace grinned as she ducked out of my path. "Alright," she said, holding up her hands. "Relax or you're gonna pull something."

"That was your excuse last time," I spat, bouncing around her. "Come at me, sis."

The boys backed away, leaning against the house as Grace used her foot to toss herself one of our practice staffs. It was an old broom handle that Dad had shaped into points on both sides, but had been worn from extreme use. It had always been Grace's weapon of choice. I turned to pick up a shorter one, shaped similarly, but pointed only on one side.

I spun, taking the first swipe at my sister and she countered easily, sidestepping only slightly. Grace twirled the broom handle as only my sister could, dusting the ground with the points on the ends as she spun. Gaining momentum, she turned and extended it towards me, aiming for my shoulders. I blocked and smiled. "This feels good," I commented.

Grace nodded and grinned back. "It won't for much longer. Let's go."

I had forgotten how elegantly Grace moved, stepping towards me as she landed hit after hit. I countered easily, but she was fast and I had to work to keep up with her attack. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the boys lean towards each other, talking quietly amongst themselves and I realized that they had never seen us in action. I decided to give them a show.

Instead of defending against Grace's attack, I spun, extending my arm enough that Grace had to twirl out of my way; otherwise, she would have ended up with a bruise across her hip. She countered with a hit of her own and pushed me back, pummeling me with blow after blow. Reaching out with my left foot, I hooked her ankle and took her to the ground, but she rolled with the take-down, moving out of the way quickly, getting back to her feet. I shot my arms out, trying to catch her off balance, but I almost lost my own fake, wooden sword when she scored a hit across my knuckles.

"Stop trying to get me to the ground," she criticized. "Don't worry about trying to impress the boys. Worry about me kicking your ass and how much it's gonna hurt tomorrow."

I licked my lips as another song began on the stereo, filling our backyard with sound. "Holy shit," I breathed, hearing OutKast blast through the speakers. "'Hey, Yeah'?" I asked. "Really?"

"Don't hate on two-thousand three," Grace argued, stepping forward and taking another swipe at me. Her breathing was beginning to increase and her face was reddening with effort. "This was a great song."

I hit her again and again with my fake sword and she countered each move, blocking and twirling with her long, blonde hair trailing behind her. Finally, I got a good enough hit that she lost control of the staff. She watched as it sailed through the air and landed behind me and I grinned, knowing I finally disarmed her.

Grace was never one to let something as simple as being disarmed slow her down. She collapsed and rolled, tucking herself into a ball and rolled towards her broomstick, making me jump to get out of her way. Grace came up on both feet; once again holding her staff and attacking with three rapid hits, all to my knuckles. I had an urge to let go of my sword because of the pain, but I switched hands and spun, throwing out my arm and getting her hard across the shoulder.

"Bitch," she hissed, rubbing the red welt that was already forming across her skin.

I grinned, "Jerk." I finally started feeling successful, but didn't let my guard down. I braced for her attack and was ready as she approached.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Sam, 156 days together

Watching the girls spar was one of the most intense and erotic things I had ever watched. I tried not to let Dean's comments into my mind, but every time that Serra dodged or twirled and Grace blocked and jabbed with such elegance and ease, I would smile and shake my head, simply astounded. Dean glanced at me every once and awhile, grinning from ear to ear.

"I wanna throw some Jello on them," he muttered, watching Grace as she spun out of Serra's reach. "Let 'em really hash it out."

"They're not wrestling," I argued, furrowing my eyebrows and shaking my head. "This is…this is amazing. It's like a dance."

Serendipity knocked Grace's staff hard enough that it launched into the air and we all watched as it cart-wheeled, end over end in the darkness. Grace took the opportunity while Serra was distracted and kicked her legs out from under her, trapping her sister by the neck, under her bare foot. Serra wasted no time and elbowed Grace's calf, collapsing her hold and they both rolled across the mat, locked in a hold that excited Dean.

"Now they're wrestling," he breathed. "I should go make Jello."

"Dean," I replied, warning.

"No Jello?" he grimaced as he watched Serra elbow Grace in the face. "Ouch. Mud, then."

I sighed heavily, trying to ignore my brother's commentary. Serra had managed to almost pin Grace to the ground, but wriggling free of her sister's hold, Grace rolled and somersaulted, pulling Serra with her. Their hair tangled together; a mix of dark auburn and blonde as they tumbled across the mat. Grace broke free and went for her staff, but Serra was smaller and faster, kicking it out of her reach and, spinning it, aimed it at Grace's throat.

"Holy shit," I breathed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dean nod in agreement. "Yeah," he began quietly. "I'm uncomfortably turned on."

"Would you shut up?" I whispered. "I never thought of them as hunters before this. I've never pictured them in action before."

Dean leaned closer, "There was that vamp up in Pennsylvania…we should have taken them with us."

"Next time for sure," I agreed. There was no way I wasn't bringing Serra for our next hunt, even though we had taken a huge step away from the life, settling in for full-fledged domestication. "They're incredible."

Serra had extended her hand, helping Grace to her feet as another song began. Britney Spears blared out of the speakers and I could hear Dean groan next to me. "Britney? Seriously?" he turned and looked at me, disgruntled.

As the girls began their fight again, I decided it was a fitting song, considering they continued to hit each other. "It works with the fight," I grinned, watching Grace's hair whip around as she spun away from Serra. "Hit me, baby, one more time."

"It confuses and frightens me that you know the words to this song."

I rolled my eyes at Dean and ignored him, even though he was bobbing his head to the beat as he watched. Serra was getting tired: her wooden sword hung loosely at her side and she used the back of her hand to wipe the hair from her face. Her cheeks were red and there was sweat beginning to bead at her temples.

She had never looked more beautiful.

I glanced at Dean, who had eyes only for Grace as she danced around, still defending against Serra's attacks. I could tell that he was enamored, despite his crude commentary. I smiled lightly, knowing that my brother was so connected to another human being, and turned to face the fight between the sisters once more.

"This is what happens when you blow your load all at once," Grace was saying as she spun her staff again. "Shit gets heavy, huh?" She gestured to the wooden sword in Serra's hands.

"I had you," Serra argued. "I would have made the kill then."

"What happens if there was more than one?" Grace countered, hitting the end of Serra's wooden sword with her broomstick. "Now you're exhausted, being circled by the other prick you didn't kill. What next?"

Serendipity raised her sword like a gun and aimed at Grace. "I pull one of the Twins and put you down."

"You're out of bullets," Grace replied, tapping her sister's sword again with the staff. "That's why we had to go hand to hand."

Sighing heavily, Serra shook her head. "Adrenaline would kick in and I would still put you down," she said, turning to face Grace.

"Well," Grace smiled. "Next pin earns a steak."

"Remember that I like 'em rare," Serra licked her lips and shook out her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet as the girls began again.

Dean chuckled and crossed his arms. "I should have brought popcorn out," he commented. "How long do you think they'll go?"

"I have no idea," I replied, leaning against the house. "It's amazing, though, right? That they would have this kind of training?"

A serious look crossed Dean's face as he considered them, still dancing across the mats. We could hear the occasional 'thunk' of wood hitting flesh, followed by the curse or two from the mouths of our girlfriends, but overall, they seemed pretty evenly matched.

"Think about it," Dean began, shoving his hands in his pockets as he lowered his voice. "You're a dad to two young girls. You're alone to raise them in a world that _never_ stops trying to kill them." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing once. "It's no wonder they can move like they do. He probably had them out here every chance he got."

"Why wouldn't you walk away?" I asked, turning towards my brother slightly. "As their father, you know? Why not just pull them out and dig into society? Go legit?"

"You know the answer, Sammy," Dean growled. "No one in this life really ever gets out. Grace can pretend all she wants, but…" he held out his hand towards the girls as they continued to fight. Grace had used her left arm to link with Serra's right and pulled her over her back, flipping Serra onto the map with a grunt. "Look at them. Look at us. We're all lifers."

"Saving people."

Dean pursed his lips, nodding. "Hunting things," he replied with a tilt of his head.

I pressed my teeth together as Grace held out both the sword and the staff at Serra's neck as she lay on the ground. Lifting one cocky eyebrow, Grace grinned down at her sister as she claimed victory. Dean chuckled and clapped me on the back as he walked towards Grace and wrapped an arm around her waist, bending to kiss her and wipe her loose hair out of her eyes. Immediately, they both disappeared into their own bubble, shutting me out completely.

I smiled at Serra as I held out a hand to help her up. She shook me off, obviously upset about losing and I sighed, shaking my head. She stood, dusted herself off and turned back towards the house, holding up both middle fingers over her shoulders towards Grace.

"The family business," I whispered, as I followed her back inside.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sammy, 212 days together

The leaves were beginning to change and I had begun another semester at the university where Serra was finishing up her medical degrees. Being back in school was incredible and I couldn't believe how our lives seemed to be falling into place. Dean was happy: happier than I had ever seen him, and more and more I believed that The Mark of Cain was something that he could live with for the rest of his life. His anger and mood swings were mostly a distant memory and the Mark itself seemed faded these days, as if his body had forgotten it was there. I couldn't explain it, but I didn't question it.

"Hey," I greeted as Dean walked into the kitchen while I studied. He was covered in engine grease and grime, wiping his hands on a rag as he headed for the window at the far end of the living room. "What's going on?"

"Cas called a minute ago, said the stalker was on his way out of the neighborhood, but he turned left instead of right." Dean continued to wipe his hands, still staring out the window. "I don't know if he's heading here, but I'll bet he's seeing if someone is home or not."

I joined Dean at the window and watched through the curtains. "You think he knows we're here?" I asked quietly, not wanting to anger my brother more than he already was. "The girls' cars are gone."

"He knows what we drive," Dean growled as he stared.

We waited in silence and every few seconds, I glanced at Dean's arm, waiting for the Mark to redden or for his voice to change. Nothing else happened, though, not even when we watched the stalker slowly drive by in his ugly old truck. Dean clicked his tongue and shook his head, turning away from the window as the stalker reached the end of the street.

"Asshole," Dean whispered and immediately turned back towards the kitchen.

"What are you planning on doing about it?" I asked, following him back towards the table so I could continue studying. "Grace doesn't want you engaging."

Dean rolled his eyes as he threw the dirty rag down on the table near my books. "I don't really give a shit what Grace wants when it comes to her safety. I still think we need to take the guy out."

"He's not exactly on the list of approved supernatural monsters," I sighed, sitting back at the table. "We can't just haul off and hunt him."

"Not all monsters are supernatural, Sammy," Dean replied, opening the beer he pulled from the fridge. "We could take him. Easy."

"We're not hunting him, Dean. He's human. We're gonna follow protocol and keep reporting him. Keep the paper trail going, just like Grace said." I took the beer he offered me and leaned back in my chair. "We're not going to risk what the girls have just because some asshole may or may not attack Grace."

Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head. "You don't believe her vision," he commented, leaning against the counter.

I sighed, trying to figure out the best way to approach my brother's girlfriend's visions. "Look," I began, "I'm not doubting that Grace is a psychic, I mean, I've seen her in action." I took a deep breath, setting my beer on the table. "I'm just saying don't jump the gun. Wait for the asshole to make the first move, then, we can do whatever we need to do and still be defendable in court."

"I liked you better when you had a gun in your hand instead of a pen," Dean grinned.

I shook my head, leaning back towards my books. "Shut up," I chuckled. "Grace is good for you," I continued. "She's calmed you down."

Dean nodded once, making a face, and stared at the floor. "Yeah," he replied. "You don't have to worry about me killing anyone because of The Mark anymore, huh?"

We were silent for a few breaths and I finally got the nerve to speak. "How is she doing it?" I asked, leaning forward. "I mean, it's gotta be Grace, right? She's what changed."

Shaking his head, Dean took another drink of his beer. "I dunno, man," he sighed, shrugging. "I think you're right, though. She's what's doing it…taking off the edge. I still have…" he paused and took a deep, shaky breath. "I still have nightmares. I wake up shaky and pissed, but nothing like what it used to be."

I stayed silent, waiting for Dean to finish. It was rare that he shared anything with me so directly, especially without being forced to, so I took a quiet breath and kept my mouth closed.

"I know you didn't believe it, Sammy," he continued. "That we would last, but we have."

"You're good together."

He nodded and licked his lips. "I'm thinkin'…" Dean faded off, hesitant to continue.

"You're thinking what?"

Chucking once, he stared at the beer he held and shook his head, the moment gone before he had finished his sentence. "Nothing," he whispered, standing from his lean against the counter. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, come on," I pleaded. "You were on a roll. Tell me your deepest and darkest." I grinned and raised my eyebrows, and turned so I was facing him as he headed back towards the garage.

Dean hesitated and spun slowly, smiling and shaking his head. "Don't let Grace touch you," he warned. "I tell you, you're sworn to secrecy, even to Serra."

"Dude."

"Seriously. Those two don't have any secrets and I don't wanna fuck this up."

He waited for me to finally nod my head, agreeing to his terms. "Alright," I sighed. "I won't tell Serra."

Dean took a deep ragged breath and crossed his arms over his chest, still trying to force the words out of his mouth. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he finally admitted, "I'm thinking about proposing to Grace."

My mouth opened slightly as I absorbed the information.

Dean's face scrunched up and he turned around, his walls automatically going up around him as he reached for the garage door. "See? This is why I didn't want to tell you. Forget I said anything."

"Why are you getting so defensive?" I asked, standing from the table. "Dean, you just told me you want to marry Grace. That's a lot of information to process. Give me a minute, here."

He turned, sighing, and re-crossed his arms, still on the edge of embarrassed. His jaw was set and he was doing everything in his power to avoid eye contact.

I wound the last eight months through my mind and slowly, a smile spread over my face, realizing what Dean had been doing in the garage for the last six months. "That's what the Chevelle is about, isn't it?"

My question caught Dean off guard. "What?" he asked, making a face.

"The Chevelle: it's not about rebuilding the car…it's about being dedicated to Grace." I paused and tilted my head, finally understanding what Dean had been doing over the last six months as he painstakingly took apart the old muscle car and put it back together, piece by piece. "It's given you the chance to think about your future with her…you're rebuilding yourself from the ground up, too."

Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You're reading into it too much," he replied, turning back towards the door. "If we're done with our session, Dr. Freud, I'd like to get back to the car before she gets home."

"I'm happy for you, man," I commented before he had a chance to step through the doorway. "You'll make a terrible husband."

Dean tuned and a grin spread over his face. "I know," he agreed. "Does that mean you think she'd say yes?"

I didn't hesitate. "I know she will."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Sam, 213 days together

"Is Grace already at school?" Serra asked as she walked back into her bedroom from the bathroom. She glanced back towards Grace's bedroom, seeing the door open. "Where the hell is she?"

I rolled across Serra's bed and rubbed my face. "It's almost nine-thirty," I commented. "I sure hope she's at school."

"Aw, shit, really?" Serra asked, walking back down the hall towards her bedroom. "Guess I missed that class."

"You need to start setting alarms."

She rolled her eyes and bent to pick up her jeans and pull them on. "Yeah," she agreed, sighing. "Normally, you're up before me. What's wrong with you? You feel okay?"

I sat up and nodded, smiling lightly. "I feel great," I murmured, pulling her back to bed. "Since you missed your first class, you might as well miss your next."

Serra giggled into my neck as I kissed her chest, trailing my tongue across her clavicle. "You're a terrible influence," she whispered.

"Don't tell Grace," I grumbled back. "She's gonna be mad when she finds out."

"That you're a bad influence?"

I muttered into her neck, not even sure what I was saying. "Mmm," the sound vibrated against Serra's skin, making me sigh contentedly.

Serra had already pushed her jeans back to the floor and was straddling my waist as I pawed at her hips, pushing her on. She leaned down and kissed me; her auburn hair falling into my face as her tongue danced with mine. Serra laughed again as I pulled her down towards the bed, switching places as I held her arms above her against the pillows. She moaned, driving me wild, and I attacked her neck with my tongue and teeth. One of her earrings caught my lip and I laughed, slowing down only momentarily. I shed the rest of my clothes and we found a rhythm, making her bed scrape the wall with every movement we made.

Finally collapsing next to her, I was out of breath and grinning, euphoric already from the morning. "You need a bigger bed," I commented, squeezing next to her.

"Put it on the list," she answered, trying to take her hair out from under my shoulder. "Get off, get off. You're pulling like, three strands."

I sat up and let her adjust, and then fell onto the pillows once more. We were quiet for a few minutes, but then, she sighed and giggled. "I can't believe I'm a semester from finishing." She glanced at me and smiled. "I'll be damn near a grown-up."

I chuckled and shook my head. "I can't believe I went back to school," I replied. "I can't believe any of this is happening. I can't believe I'm…happy."

"Believe it, buddy," Serra commented as she rolled over me to get dressed. "You're with me, now. You've got no choice."

She shimmied into her jeans and glanced at her clock. "I've got about twenty minutes. I might make it."

I turned to smile at her, shaking my head. Before I realized what I was doing, I said, "Dean is thinking about proposing to Grace."

Serendipity turned to stare at me slowly, her clothes forgotten. "Let's be real. I'm not going to make it," she whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Run that by me again?"

"He swore me to secrecy and he'd kill me if he knew I was telling you," I continued, making a face. "You can't even think about it when Grace is around."

"Holy shit," she answered, her eyes glazing over.

"Serra, please don't say anything to Grace."

She still didn't look directly at me, but instead repeated herself. "Holy shit," Serra said again.

"Shit, see? This is why Dean told me not to tell you," I sighed and rolled forward, picking my shirt up off the floor. "You're going to obsess about it and Grace will see it." I held up my finger at her. "Don't let her touch you."

"Holy shit."

I rolled my eyes and stood, pulling my jeans on with me. "Is that all you're going to say? Not, 'wow, that's great' or 'man, I can't believe that Dean is even thinking about that level of commitment'," I shook my head. "I can't believe he's thinking about that level of commitment. He's never been this committed to anything, except his car. Or maybe a cheeseburger."

"Are you comparing my sister to a cheeseburger?"

"No," I closed my eyes and shook my head, pushing hair out of my face. "No. I just…I wanted to be able to talk about it with someone other than Dean, since I practically had to beat it out of him. This is all so…unexpected, Serra." I took her hand and sat on the bed. "Are you okay with that? With Dean marrying Grace?"

Serra took a deep breath and sat next to me on the bed. "Why wouldn't I be? She loves him," she glanced up at me and smiled wistfully. "And I know he has a thing about saying it out loud, but I know he loves her, so." Serra shrugged. "That's kinda all I'm looking for."

I was quiet for a long time, mulling the words over in my head before I decided to say them aloud. Finally, I took a deep breath and licked my lips, turning towards Serendipity. "Dean marrying Grace…I don't want their relationship to change anything between us."

"Is this your way of telling me that you're not the marrying kind?" Serra's eyebrow shot up accusingly.

I shook my head, trying to form coherent sentences. "No," I argued. "That's not what I mean at all. I just…I want to make sure that their relationship doesn't dictate ours."

"Are you trying to break up with me?"

"Serra, shut up and just listen."

She smiled and raised both her eyebrows expectantly.

"All I'm saying is that Dean and Grace have nothing to do with us," I finally managed. "If they get married, it doesn't mean we have to get married. If they break up, it doesn't mean that we have to break up."

Serra nodded, shrugging, "And?"

"And," I sighed. "Getting here…getting to this place with us was difficult for me, because I didn't trust Dean's happiness and I just assumed that we would be gone before June. And then we stayed and stayed…" I shook my head, emotion pinching the back of my throat. "I haven't been in a long term relationship since Amelia, and even then…I thought Dean was gone and she turned out to be married." I hung my head, searching for the words, but Serra's face appeared beneath my hair and she leaned up, kissing me hard.

When we finally came up for air, she took my face in both her hands and forced me to stare into her hazel eyes. "Listen to me, and listen to me good," she began. "I don't care what Grace and Dean do. They can get married and have four kids for all I care. It doesn't make a goddamn difference to me because I'm not in a relationship with their relationship. I'm in a relationship with you."

"And?"

Serra grinned. "And I don't care about your relationship issues. I don't care about your past. All I need to know is your present and maybe, eventually, your future, if ours is going in the same direction. I've spent my entire life living in Grace's shadow. It's nice to be out in the sun."

"She did it to keep you safe."

"You're only saying that because Dean did the same thing to you."

I pressed my lips together and tried not to smile.

"Bottom line, Winchester," Serra stood and stared down at me with her hands on her hips, still wearing nothing but a bra and her jeans. "Are you committed to being with me?"

"Yes."

"Are you gonna puss out when shit gets hard?"

I took a breath and shook my head. "No."

Serra bent to kiss me, leaning between my legs as I sat on the bed. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and I snaked my hands up to her waist once again. Finally, she breathed through her nose and pulled her face away from mine. "Then that's good enough for me," she whispered. "Sucker."

I chuckled and licked my lips, still tasting her. "I still think I got the better end of the deal."

She bent to pick up her tank top, throwing a grin back at me. "You did."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Serra: Almost eight months together

It had been colder than usual and I finally convinced Grace to turn the heat up so that we didn't freeze to death while we slept. The boys were off, attempting to plan for a hunt that I knew Dean wouldn't commit to, especially since he was practically following Grace around the house at this point, waiting for the stalker to jump out of the linen closet and pound her face in.

Honestly, I didn't feel much better about the whole situation. It had been months since Grace's vision and there had been nothing: no sightings, no close calls…there was nothing to make us feel like the danger had passed. If anything, I felt like Grace was an armed grenade, just waiting for the slightest movement to make her trip. I had taken to sleeping with my twin Colts almost under my pillow, but Sammy had convinced me that getting shot in the head while we screwed would not end romantically.

I came downstairs on Halloween to find Grace in nothing but her white tank top and a pair of hot pink underwear, with her blonde hair cascading loosely down her back. "Hey," I greeted. "What's the occasion? I thought I was the only one that did that anymore." I hesitated and looked around, making a face. "Dean's not here is he?" My face brightened, thinking it through. "Unless he's naked? Naked could be fun."

Grace chuckled and shook her head. "Get your mind out of the gutter," she answered, as she went back to pouring the pumpkin pie mixture into the pie crust. "I got hot with the stove and the heater going."

I grinned, looking down at myself, and realized how similar my sister and I really were. It wasn't often that Grace wore such revealing clothes and I approved that Dean had finally made her relax a bit. From where I stood, most of her tattoos showed; the compass that matched my own was peeking out from under her hair, the sugar skull on her hip almost glowed with its beautifully bright colors, and her white tank barely covered the Sailor Jerry swallows on her back. I glanced down, approving the fact that we were almost identically dressed and reached over her to turn up the stereo.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Don't you have school work?"

"It's Saturday," I commented, pulling out a beer. "And it's fucking Halloween. I think booze and loud music are the only way we'll cope."

Grace laughed and nodded, taking the beer I handed her.

"Are you making a fucking pumpkin pie?" I asked, bobbing my head to the music. "What, are you a Stepford Wife now?"

She spun around, putting ingredients back into the fridge as she checked the temperature of the oven. Shrugging, she nodded, biting her lip. "I wouldn't mind," she replied over the music. "If Dean proposed, I would say yes in a heartbeat."

I held my tongue, knowing that if I didn't keep Sammy's secret, it would be my hide. "Do you think he's gonna propose?" Grace wasn't just a psychic. She was also extremely intuitive. She always went with her gut and it had never let either one of us down.

Grace pressed her lips together and shrugged. "I think Dean is figuring out what he wants right now. I know I'm on that very short list, so if we make it to our year anniversary, he'll either freak out and try to abandon ship, or get down on one knee and confess as a stupid, blubbery mess." She took a drink from her bottle and set it down, leaning over and putting the pie in the hot oven. "If I was a betting girl, and I am," she sighed, "I would put money on the latter."

I bounced a bit more with the beat of the music, trying to hide my grin behind my beer. "I would too," I giggled. "Oh my God, Grace. We're still alive."

She turned towards me and picked up her beer, holding it out to tap mine. "Cheers, little sister," she said, sighing in contentment. "We made it."

The music took us then; a mix of pop, classic rock, R&B, and country pounded through the speakers in the house the same way it did the day Sammy and I…became Sammy and I. Somewhere through the middle of Green Day's _American Idiot,_ the timer in Grace's mind went off and she pulled the piping hot pumpkin pie from the oven and set it on a cooling rack. I continued to bounce around her, now three beers in, my hair trailing behind me as I sang with the song.

Grace has always had a problem staying drunk, so she was working hard to keep up with me. She had easily pounded six of her own and the rosy glow in her cheeks told me that she was feeling them. As she closed the door to the oven, the song shifted to Warrant's _Cherry Pie_ and we both turned, grinning at each other and began to strut through the kitchen and the living room, throwing our hair around like we were runway models…or exotic dancers. We were so into our own movements, having the time of our lives, we didn't hear the front door open.

…

Sam, 238 days together

"What is that?" I asked, turning towards my brother, listening hard.

He didn't seem concerned, still pulling groceries from the back of the Impala. "Sounds like they're listening to music," Dean answered, nodding up towards the house.

I listened again, and making a face, and accepted that as truth. Cas handed me another bag from the trunk and I smiled my thanks. "You wanna stay for dinner, Cas?" I asked. "Celebrate Halloween? I heard Grace was going to make a pie."

"That pie is mine," Dean growled over his shoulder.

I chuckled and shook my head as Castiel pressed his lips together. "Thank you, Sam," he replied, his voice low and rough. "I believe I will continue to watch the man that is stalking Grace. It concerns me that he has remained so quiet for so long."

Dean nodded his agreement. "You want some company, man?"

"Thank you Dean," Cas answered. "But company is unnecessary. Celebrate All Hallows Eve with Grace. Enjoy your time together."

With a swoosh of his wings, he was gone on the spot.

I followed Dean up the front walk and I smiled, listening to Warrant pound through the walls of the Browning sisters' house. I thought about the hunt we were supposed to be on; but agreed wholeheartedly with Dean's decision. We had decided the best thing to do was to stay home with Serra and Grace instead of heading out on a hunt for two reasons: number one being that I knew I wouldn't get a committed hunt out of Dean while Grace was still at risk with the stalker being on the loose and number two is that we didn't even really know what was killing off the townsfolk in Grants Pass, Oregon. We would have to be gone too long and we just didn't have it in us anymore…we had more important things in our lives, for once.

Carrying groceries, Dean reached for the door and turned the knob, stopping dead in his tracks as he let it swing open wide. He carefully set the groceries down and stood, just watching.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Go."

Dean held up a hand and gestured towards the living room, grinning from ear to ear as he watched. I moved closer to him to follow his line of sight and laughed, seeing Grace and Serra in nothing but their tight white tank tops and underwear, dancing around the living room with their hair, wild and flowing behind them.

"It's like one of your fantasies come to life," I muttered to my brother. "Do they know we're here?"

Dean sighed and shook his head slowly, "Dude, just shut up and enjoy yourself."

I smiled, nodding lightly, and stood silently behind Dean. The song ended and the girls twirled and collapsed on the couch in a fit of giggles.

Grace realized we were standing in the doorway first and the flush of embarrassment flooded her face. "Oh, shit," she said, trying to hide a grin. "I feel like I'm about seventeen."

Dean grinned at her, raising an eyebrow as he picked up the groceries, carrying them inside. "Yeah, only difference is that you're legal. And you're mine." He walked through the door and leaned over the couch, kissing her fiercely and I smiled, looking away from their intimate moment.

Serra's eyes found mine and she waggled her eyebrows, obviously not embarrassed in the slightest. She blew me a kiss and sauntered back into the kitchen, pulling down ingredients for mixed drinks. Obviously, tonight, we were celebrating.

...

Sam

"What are you doing out here?" I asked, peeking through the garage door, looking for Dean. "She's going to be out of the shower any minute and Serra keeps talking about playing darts."

Dean ignored my comment and turned towards me, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "That's a bullet hole," he said, pointing towards the Chevelle's driver-side door. "It's so rusted out, I didn't realize."

"I'm sure the Impala has had a few in her life, too," I answered, joining him in the garage and closing the door behind me. "They're hunters. I think we keep forgetting that."

Shaking his head, Dean argued, "It's a through and through, Sam." He bent at the waist and dug around in between the steel frame, pulling out more nesting material from some animal's home. "And look, there's another two here. Three through and throughs into the driver's side door, right near where her hip and side would be on the seat." Dean paused, thinking. "She doesn't have any scars on that side."

I shrugged. "Maybe she wasn't driving," I answered. "Why are you so worried about rusted out bullet holes from a million years ago?"

Licking his lips, Dean leaned away from the door, dusting his hands off on his pants. "I dunno," he began, shrugging. "I still feel like I don't know _everything_ there is to know about her…like bullet holes in her car or the fact that they spar when they feel like they're behind on their skills. The scars across her ribcage, shoulder, and neck. Her tattoos." Dean turned towards me and shrugged, holding out his arms. "She knows everything about me, Sam. She can see _everything_ when she's wandering around up here." He tapped his head with a finger and hesitated. "Can hunters ever really know each other? Will I ever _really_ know her?"

"Are you rethinking the idea of proposing?" I asked, crossing my arms.

Dean was silent for a long time, staring at the rusted door that leaned against the patched and sanded body. Slowly, the Chevelle was beginning to look like a classic muscle car again and I was proud of the effort that Dean had put into it. "I'm not doubting anything when it comes to Grace," he finally answered. "I know how I feel and I know there's nothing that could stop me from wanting to spend the rest of my days with her." He glanced up at me and pressed his lips together, unsure about how to phrase his next thoughts. "It's one thing to keep an average civilian girlfriend safe, but they're hunters, Sammy. Grace is a psychic _hunter._ " He rubbed his face. "With a fucking stalker," he added. "How am I supposed to keep her safe?"

"I'm pretty sure she's capable of protecting herself," I ventured quietly. "I mean, she was doing fine before you came along."

"She's my…She's like a drug, Sam. I can't…" Dean took a deep, ragged breath and turned away from me, staring at the muscle car magazine pages that were stapled to the walls of the garage, obviously hung there by Serra and Grace's father, many years ago. "I can't lose her."

I approached Dean slowly, understanding that the bond he shared with Grace was not much different (if only a bit more intense) than the one I shared with Serendipity. We were drawn to them like magnets and more and more, I was starting to think that the arrangement had more to do with the universe than with plain old sexual attraction. It was almost as if we orbited around each other, that the girls somehow completed us and that we had some larger destiny in the future.

I bit my lip, searching for the words to comfort my brother, but honestly, I had the same fears. The main reasons my fears weren't intensified the way that Dean's were currently was because of Grace's vision. Someone was actively hunting her, and there was very little that Dean was able to do about it.

Smiling despite the situation, I leaned against the workbench next to my brother, crossing my arms and staring at the car. "You ever feel like this was arranged?" I asked.

"Like what was arranged?"

"Our relationships with the girls," I shrugged. "I mean, Dean, think about: The Mark of Cain…a thorn in your side, the constant fear I had stabbing its way through my mind…it's all just _gone_. You," I gestured to him with a free hand, "you _just stopped_ being angry. You stopped trying to kill people. You stopped tossing bookcases, just _overnight_." Dean licked his lips and nodded slowly, glancing down at the faded red scar on his arm as I continued. "You talk about Grace like a drug, like you're addicted to her, and I think that might be why." He looked at me, his eyebrows dangerous, but I held up my hands. "I'm not saying the love isn't really there, trust me. I've never seen you like this with anyone before in my _life._ I'm just saying that the pull I feel towards Serra and the hold that you and Grace have over each other…it seems cosmic."

Dean remained silent, but nodded.

"What's the bigger picture?" I asked. "What are we missing?"

He shrugged and glanced towards the ceiling as we heard the water from the upstairs bathroom shut off. "I don't know yet," he answered, standing from his place against the workbench. "But I wanna spend the rest of my life finding out."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Sam, 238 days together

"Teams or not?" Serra was asking as she counted paces away from the dartboard at the end of the dining room.

Grace spoke from the kitchen, now fully clothed in another tight, white tank top and a pair of ridiculous red sweatpants. "No teams," she said, carrying a tray of chips, salsa, tequila, and limes. "If you can't handle me beating your ass alone, then you don't get to play at all."

Serra rolled her eyes as she pulled out the four different colored sets of darts. "I think you're forgetting how terrible you are at darts," she replied. "If it's not a game where you get to read minds, you lose."

Scoffing at her sister, Grace turned back towards Dean and leaned into him. He smiled and kissed her, holding her hand behind her back. "I hope you don't mind me beating you senseless in darts," she whispered.

"You can beat me senseless any time you want," Dean replied, shrugging out of his flannel and tossing it across the room. It landed neatly on the back of the couch.

I glanced at Serra and raised my eyebrows. "You think you're better than everyone at darts?" I asked, stepping forward to take the yellow set from her hands.

Serra made a face and narrowed her hazel eyes. "I don't _think_ anything," she replied, handing the green set to Dean. "I _know_ I'm better than everyone at darts. It's kinda my game."

I smiled and shook my head, glancing at Dean. I didn't want to break it to her that darts was what I excelled at when it came to skeezy bar games, so I kept my mouth shut. Dean's lips curled into a wry smile, but I shook my head, warning him to stay quiet. He shrugged, turning back towards Grace and kissing her again as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "Alright," he sighed, finally backing away. "We need to set up some stakes."

"Like what?" Serra asked, completely interested.

Dean took the drink that Grace extended towards him and smiled. "Inner bull's eye; everyone but the shooter takes a shot and spills a secret. Outer bull's; just a secret or just a shot. Every fifty points; another shot and another secret. It'll be a real interesting way to learn new things about each other."

"You know that Grace can't stay drunk, right?"

Dean turned from Serra to stare at Grace. "That kinda takes the fun out of it," he sighed.

Grace pursed her lips and shrugged. "I'll double my intake, how about that?"

I laughed and used a tortilla chip to scoop salsa from the bowl. "This is going to get interesting in a hurry."

…

Sam, 239 days together

I had no idea how many hours had passed but I was barely able to support my own weight as the dart board swayed in front of me. It was just past ten and I was easily winning, but Serra refused to admit it and did everything she could to distract my aim, this time leaning close to me and licking the edge of my ear.

Dean was rosy cheeked, leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand and Grace on his arm, laughing at Serra's attempts. "Just take your shirt off," Grace slurred to her sister. "Make sure you have a bra on first."

Serra giggled and shrugged. "That might work better, you think?"

"I'm on board with this plan," Dean added. "Take it off."

I leaned forward and took my shot before Serra had a chance to do anything drastic. I hit the inner bull's eye without hesitation and turned towards her victoriously, tilting my head and grinning at her. "Your move, I think, babe," I said smugly. "But first, make sure everyone gets their shot. And I think we'll start with Grace this time…what secret would you like to share, elder Browning?"

Grace giggled as she held her shot glass to her mouth, letting the liquid burn her throat on the way down. Dean turned, waiting for Grace to speak, and laughed along with her as she let the words tumble out of her mouth. "We had sex in Serra's bed yesterday."

Serendipity turned slowly, letting the words sink into her mind. "You did what now?"

"It's definitely firmer than Grace's bed," Dean added, trying not to smile. "Squeaks more."

I watched with my eyes wide as Serra's face smoothed out. She set her jaw and shook her head at Grace, who couldn't contain her drunken laughter. "You bitch! Those were clean sheets!" she yelled, holding out her arms towards her sister.

Grace leaned into Dean, holding her stomach and laughing. "They're not anymore!"

Without hesitation, Serra turned to face Dean and strode towards him, taking his face in both of her hands, kissing him hard on the mouth. Grace turned and her mouth fell open, watching the exchange. I was so drunk, I was a little confused as to what was happening.

As she pulled away, Grace tilted her head and pushed Serra back. "What the hell was that for?"

"You have sex on my bed; I'll kiss your boyfriend!"

"That's not the same thing!"

"It is now."

Grace dropped Dean's arm and walked straight for me and my feet were planted firmly in place. I had no idea what to do, so I closed my eyes and I froze as Grace grabbed the front of my flannel, pulling me down to her level. She kissed me, hard, and I relaxed a bit as her mouth moved with mine.

Dean grinned behind me and I couldn't help laughing as Grace turned towards Serra, putting her hands on her hips. "Are we switching tonight, or what?" he asked over Grace's head. I made a face and tried not to giggle at the expression on Serra's face.

"Alright, alright," I said, holding out my hands and standing between the sisters. "You're even. Back off."

"Oh, come on," Dean pleaded. "They're drunk. Maybe they'll fight in Jello tonight."

I rolled my eyes, stepping towards Serra. "You each made your points."

"She just kissed you," Serra growled. "I think I need to make another point."

"You kissed him first," Grace argued from over my shoulder.

"You had sex in my fucking bed!"

" _So_ not the same thing as kissing your boyfriend!"

Dean finally came over to stand in front of Grace, but was still chuckling, shaking his head. "Drunk is gettin' ugly, gorgeous," he muttered. "Let her win this one."

I glanced behind me and saw Grace roll her eyes and nod once. She turned to face Dean and headed for another chip filled with salsa. "You hear that?" she called to Serra, her face still flushed in anger. "He just called you ugly."

"I swear to God," Serra spat and lunged at Grace, spilling salsa on the floor. Grace must have been sobering up because she took the attack like it was nothing; bending slightly at the waist and flipping Serra onto the couch behind her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean shouted, holding up his hands. "Neutral corners!"

I moved towards Serra and pulled her shoulders back towards me as Dean did the same thing to Grace. I still felt sluggish and was glad that Dean seemed to be less drunk than me. Grace's eyes flicked to mine and I knew she was completely sober, just from the look in her eye. She held up her hands, saying, "I'm good. I just didn't want her to hurt herself."

Serra glared at Grace and shook her head. I glanced down at my girlfriend and couldn't help the laughter that escaped my lips. She furrowed her eyebrows at me and I explained, "I think you two are worse than a couple of dudes fighting over a girl!"

Grace's face relaxed into a grin and she chuckled. "She's coiled like a spring," she sighed. "The slightest little bit of a push when she's trashed…she gets all pissy and punching. And knowing that she lost to you at darts…"

"I did not lose to him at darts!"

"You lost to him at darts."

Serra was up and lunging at Grace again, but she slipped elegantly from Dean's grip and used the angle of her foot and a slight push to put Serra back on the couch. "Dude, chill. I do not want your man. I was just proving a point," Grace explained, crossing her arms in front of her. "Kissing Sam is weird. It won't be repeated. Trust me." She glanced at me and held up her hands. "No offense."

"None taken."

"I still haven't heard secrets from anyone else," Dean slurred. "I think we're kinda forgetting the point of the game."

"Oh my God, stop talking," Serra groaned and rolled to a standing position. She continued muttering to herself, headed towards the bar. "Fucking Halloween," she mumbled. "We should be hunting."

"Is that what you're all wound up about?" Grace turned and put her hands on her hips. "That we're not hunting on Halloween?"

Serra turned and downed the shot she held, "Of course that's what I'm all wound up about," she spat. "We have _always_ hunted on Halloween. It's like a tradition." She gestured towards me and Dean and shrugged dramatically. "I guess now that we have _boyfriends,_ traditions go out the window."

"Jesus," Grace breathed. "If you wanna go hunting, let's go hunting! Just say so!"

"It's a little late now!"

Grace was already moving; pulling on her boots and grabbing her leather jacket. "No! Let's go! We'll head down to that stone church at the end of town! Shake some things loose! I'm sure there's a vengeful spirit lurking around there somewhere!" She turned back with her arms spread wide. "Oh! I know! Let's go to the battlefield! Celebrate Quantrill's Raid from the Civil War!" Grace threw her purse over her shoulder and opened the door as a group of teenaged-trick-or-treaters approached.

"Trick or treat!" they shouted in tandem. Grace grabbed the bowl off the end table and dumped it into the closest sheet-donned ghost and grinned.

"There," she declared. "We're out! Let's go!" The teenagers seemed confused, but they turned and walked away, looking back occasionally. "Well?" Grace continued back at us. "Come on then!"

Dean shrugged and pulled his flannel and jacket from the chair, following closely behind Grace. "I'm too wasted to drive," he grumbled, handing her the keys to the Impala.

"She gets to drive?" I gasped in disbelief. "You have to be bleeding or dead to let me drive."

Dean made a face, shrugging at me. "You're not stacked, nor do you sleep naked next to me."

"Dude."

"Sorry not sorry," Dean answered, tripping out the front door, headed after Grace.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Serra: I have no idea what day we're on. Sam would know something like that. It's been like, eight months.

I was drunk. Excessively drunk, and now, I was drunk in public, which I know from experience that people tend to frown upon. I was shoved into the back seat of the Impala with Sammy and we were headed towards the University of Kansas and possibly Oak Hill Cemetery, where some battle in the Civil War was fought and where some of the victims are buried. I shouldn't have opened my big mouth, but once Grace gets me going about something, I can't seem to shut my trap. I'm in no shape to hunt. As I stare at the back of Grace's stupid head, I realize that her neck looks about double the size it should be, but it's probably just the tequila.

Dean was mumbling something about feeling pretty good and that if we were really going hunting, maybe we should leave the 'little one' in the car.

 _Little one?_ I thought to myself. "What do you mean the 'little one'?" I almost shouted at him. "I'm not that small!"

"You're small," Dean replied, grinning.

Sammy turned and shook his head at me, smiling and trying to comfort me. _Ugh,_ I thought. _It's stupid when those stupid dimples show._

I leaned forward, reaching for his face with both my hands, and kissed him, breathing hard into his face. I could feel him smile under my lips and he returned the kiss, putting one of his deliciously over-sized hands around my head; his fingers tangling in my hair. We made out for awhile, but then Grace stopped hard at a light, waiting for the trickle of trick-or-treaters to cross the street, trailed by a very tired-looking set of parents.

"Man," commented Dean, watching them cross. "That's a lot of kids."

Grace nodded, watching them. I tried to squint as they moved, attempting to count them through the haze of booze that still filtered in and out of my brain. "I can't see. How many?"

"Seven," Grace replied. "Maybe two sets? There're four adults."

"Two sets and some buddies?" Sammy added.

Dean shook his head slowly. "That's still a lot of friggin' kids."

Grace leaned towards him, teasing. "What's the matter? The big, bad hunter can't handle a couple of offspring?"

He glanced at her and I could see the tiniest bit of redness hit his cheeks that I knew wasn't from the tequila. "You're used to them. You've got a whole classroom full," he replied quietly.

"Nah, Dean loves kids," Sammy answered, slurring a bit. "After you two get married, you should have like, three or four of 'em."

Grace turned towards Sam and lifted her eyebrows at him. I spun as well, my dizziness getting the best of me and I swayed in my seat a bit. Taking a breath, Grace asked, "Oh, we're getting married now?"

Dean threw him a look over the front seat, but Sam plowed on. "Oh yeah," he agreed. "Dean loves you. Wants to marry you." He grinned and hiccupped for good measure.

As the light turned green, Grace faced forward once more and shook her head, chuckling. "I'm just going to write this whole conversation off, knowing how drunk everyone else is."

"Seriously," Sammy continued, leaning forward in his seat. "He told me a bunch of secrets that I'm not allowed to tell you."

Dean turned and held up a finger. "Sammy," he warned. "I'm trashed, but not enough that I can't pound you into next week. Cool it."

"Oh!" Sam covered his mouth. "That's right. They're secrets."

Grace giggled again and turned into the parking lot of the University. She put the Impala in park and gestured out the window, leaving the engine running. "Well," she said. "See any vengeful spirits out there in the field?"

Like the suckers we were, we all turned towards the open field, where the battle had taken place, back in the mid-1800s, but Dean started to laugh. "This is so stupid," he chuckled. "We're too drunk to even have a coherent conversation, let alone dig a hole big enough to find remains to salt and burn."

I couldn't help it. I began to giggle, but it mutated into an outright laugh and I ended up snorting through my nose trying to hold it in. "Oh my God," I gasped. "We can't hunt like this."

Grace spun around, lifting her arm up and leaning it on the back of the seat. "I'm glad you finally realized the truth," she grinned. "Can we go now? Stop at the diner and get some pie and coffee? Maybe sober up a bit?"

Sammy laughed and leaned his head onto my shoulder. "Dean wouldn't let me have any pumpkin pie," he muttered, shaking his head.

"I'm fucking the baker," Dean answered, reaching his arm around Grace's shoulders. "One of the many perks."

We pulled into our favorite diner's parking lot soon after and it was still bustling with people, considering the day. Grace found a spot near the back of the lot, away from most of the crowd and pulled the keys. She and Dean were still interlocked in the front seat, a tangle of hands and hair as I turned to open the door, trying my best to ignore them.

I stumbled out of the back of the Impala and tripped twice over my own boots, but luckily, Sammy is big enough that I didn't even make him budge. He turned and draped his arm over my shoulders possessively and we swayed up to the doors of the diner together, not even looking back to see where Grace and Dean were.

The hostess greeted us and asked how many in our party and it was the first time I realized that my sister and her boyfriend weren't immediately behind us. "Four," I started, confused. "I mean. They _were_ with us."

Sammy shrugged as he glanced around, but followed the waitress as she led us towards the back of the diner to a window seat that faced the Impala. "Oh, Jesus H. Christ," I groaned as I sat down. "I see them." The waitress left us with our menus and I gestured out the window. "They're not even being slick about it," I whispered, leaning closer to Sam. "Look at that. You can see his ass through the back window."

"What?" Sammy leaned towards me, squinting. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I pointed with more effort. "Them. I'm talking about them, fucking in the back seat, where we," I gestured between us, "will eventually be forced to ride home." I turned back towards the window to stare. "You brother has one of the palest white asses I have ever seen in my life."

Sam made a face and shook his head. "His ass _is_ white!" he declared, laughing. "Oh man, it's gonna smell like sex in there. How far is the house? Can we just walk home from here?"

I laughed, leaning into Sam's muscular arm, feeling it with both of my hands for good measure. "We could probably walk," I giggled. "Holy hell, your arms."

Sammy stared down at me with lust in his eyes. "Uh-huh," he nodded. "I could pick you up without trying."

"I know. We've kinda done that already."

Sam bit his lip as I leaned towards him. "I wanna do it again."

"Right now?"

Sammy was standing and pulling me out of the booth before I knew what was happening. I was giggling obnoxiously and people were starting to stare. I grinned down at them as I passed and pointed to him, "We're gonna bang."

The women's bathroom was occupied, so Sammy pushed his way into the single room men's bathroom and shoved me inside, locking the door behind me. I made a face, looking around, but he was on me before I had a chance to be grossed out.

I was still stupid-drunk and our kisses were sloppy; tugging at clothes and pushing each other around the room. We never even bothered to fully strip, but instead, we pushed each other's pants down far enough to get the job done. Sammy had no problem wrapping his arms around me and holding me up as we gasped, finding a messy rhythm up against the sink and the paper towel dispenser. At one point, I flailed, trying to regain my balance as Sam pivoted, and I knocked the framed 'Employees Must Wash Hands' poster that hung above the sink to the side. I giggled, covering my mouth and tried to fix it, but Sam grabbed my arm by the wrist and pinned me against the wall.

"Oh my God, Sam," I grunted as he bit my neck. "Stop—I can't," I gasped again and grabbed his hair with my other hand, squeezing my eyes shut as we hit blinding white euphoria together.

He kissed me once more and leaned his face away from me just enough to focus on each other. "I'm still seeing two of you," he slurred.

"Lucky bastard," I commented, grinning.

We stumbled around, trying to put ourselves back together, still laughing as we tumbled out of the bathroom. Only a couple of people noticed and one of the older women gave me a wink, apparently approving of our tryst. Sammy took my hand and led me back to the booth as our coffee appeared, getting a glare from the young waitress.

"Hi," I greeted her, smiling in return. "I need fries. Garlicky, salty, delicious fries. Bring me fries, please."

The waitress rolled her eyes and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "And for you, sir?" she asked, smiling at Sammy.

"Chicken strips…" he answered, squinting at the menu. "And a slice of pie."

"What kind?"

Sammy shrugged and made a face. "What kind you got?"

She raised her eyebrows and sighed, "Apple, cherry, pecan, pumpkin, lemon…" As she was rattling off the names of too many pies, Grace and Dean were sauntering up to our table; rosy cheeked and grinning. Dean's hair was pushed off to one side and Grace hadn't bothered trying to retie her hair. It sailed behind her; long locks of blonde everywhere. I giggled to myself seeing that Dean had missed a button on his flannel and his shirt was lopsided.

Breathless, Grace sat across from me as Dean slid in beside her, not releasing her hand from his grip. He glanced up at the waitress and gave her a roguish grin. "Are we ordering pie?" he asked, trying to focus on her name tag. "I like pie. Bring me pie, too, Wendy."

Grace closed her eyes and shook her head, obviously completely sober. "I'm sorry for all of them. They're trashed," she apologized. "He wants pecan," she said, pointing at Dean, "I would like a slice of pumpkin, and the little one over there wants garlic fries, and probably a slice of apple pie." Grace turned to stare at Sam and tilted her head. "I don't know what Sammy likes yet, though."

"I want apple, too."

Pressing her lips together, Grace nodded. "Apple then. And coffees all around, please?"

Wendy the waitress nodded once, trying very hard to remain disapproving. She couldn't help it, though, smiling at Dean and winking. "Coming right up, honey," she answered.

I sat, trying to keep my lips pressed firmly together, but I couldn't help myself when I blurted, "I think your ass might be whiter than mine, there, Dean."

He glanced up at me, confused, but then a smug look crossed his face. "You like what you see, there, Lucky?"

I grinned back at him, leaning across the table. "Oh yeah," I nodded, agreeing. "Could make myself a Winchester sandwich."

"Serendipity Adeline," Grace scolded, barely holding onto her straight face. "Can you try not to be a complete slut?"

I gasped in mock indignation, "What? The hell you say," I giggled as I leaned back into my seat. "You should talk."

Dean turned and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I see where we're going with this. Are we talking numbers, here, ladies?"

Grace turned and waited for Dean to face her. "Do we really want to open that door?"

Dean narrowed his eyes and thought longer than he should. "No?" he asked, still staring at Grace. "No." He shook his head, looking away from her and shaking his head. "No. I don't want to know."

"Probably a wise choice," Grace nodded, licking her lips. "You guys are still just…wasted."

"Yeah," I muttered. "It's stupid that you can't join us on this side. It's fun."

Sammy leaned forward toward Grace and took a breath. "Why can't you stay drunk?" he asked. "That seems like a weird side-effect," he turned to stare at me. "Affect? Effect?"

"Effect," I replied, nodding.

"A weird side-effect of being a by-touch psychic."

Grace shrugged and glanced at Dean, who had still not released her hand. "I know," she agreed, putting her elbow on the table. "It's how I've always been. Maybe I just run warmer than everyone and burn it off. It's probably why I always feel so tuned up."

I nodded enthusiastically, leaning back when Wendy the waitress brought Dean and Grace their coffee. "She's real intuitive too," I added. "Always knows things before they happen, even though there's nothing to touch."

"You have dreams, too," Dean added quietly. "Full conversations sometimes, but it sounds like it's in another language."

Wendy stared down at us, obviously thinking that we were all crazy. I grinned up at her and pointed at my sister accusingly, "She's a psychic, you know."

"Oh, Jesus, Serra," Grace said, exasperated. "Leave the poor woman alone."

"A psychic," Wendy repeated, ignoring Grace. "Happy Halloween to you, too."

I tapped the table with both of my hands excitedly. "No," I shouted, stopping her in her tracks. "Grace, touch her."

"I'm not going to touch her." She glanced up at Wendy and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'll tip you. A lot."

"Why does she need to touch me?" Wendy asked, seemingly genuinely interested.

I had a captive audience, now. The waitress squatted down next to the booth and watching Grace with interest. "When she touches you, she gets flashes of your life. She can tell you details about yourself that no one else would know." I turned to tap the table again. "Grace, touch her."

Grace closed her eyes slowly and sighed heavily. "Serra," she whined.

"Please?"

Wendy turned towards Grace and extended her hand, waiting patiently. Dean turned to watch his girlfriend and lifted his eyebrows, asking permission to release hers. Grace licked her lips and closed her eyes again, shrugging once and seemingly giving in. Letting go, Dean turned to watch Wendy's reaction as Grace finally made contact.

Predictably, Grace glazed over for about three seconds or so and then returned, smiling lightly. "Congratulations," she commented once she released Wendy's hand. "Harvard. That's quite an achievement."

The waitress stared at Grace for longer than she needed to, looking down at the carpet after her eyes filled suddenly with tears.

"She saw something good, didn't she?" I asked, leaning towards her, trying to hold back the smug smile that was tugging at the corners of my lips. "What did she see? Will you tell us?" I looked at my sister. "What about Harvard?"

Wendy seemed to be in a state of shock, and Grace waited, unwilling to share the secret that now Wendy and Grace shared. Slowly, Wendy came back to us and stared up at my sister. "I only found out yesterday," she whispered. "That's incredible. I haven't told anyone."

Grace smiled lightly and shrugged. "It's a gift I would return if I could," she replied. "More of a pain in the ass than anything."

"Oh my _God,"_ I whined, tapping the table once more. "What did you see?"

Wendy turned and stood, smoothing her apron and tucking her hair behind her ears. "I applied to Harvard," she answered, taking a deep breath. "I got in."

Sammy's eyes lit up and he laughed once. "That's amazing! Congratulations!"

We all clapped loudly around the table, causing a bigger scene than Wendy was ready for. She blushed, holding out her hands and laughing. "Stop, stop," she giggled. "Pie's on the house. Keep it down." She walked away briskly before we had a chance to embarrass her further.

Dean grinned at Grace, draping his arm around her shoulders and sighed contentedly. "You could earn some serious bank going around palm reading like that," he said, mostly to me. "You ever think about that? Extorting your sister for some petty cash?"

"It was the Browning Way," I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. "But it usually wasn't to make us money. Usually it was to keep us alive."

"Hey, Dad had me run plenty of cons with it," Grace argued.

I made a face, nodding lightly. "Yeah, that's true," I agreed. "God, I'm glad that's over."

"Glad what's over?" Sammy asked.

I glanced at Grace, wondering if I had stepped over the invisible line we had about discussing our past. Grace's cons usually involved using her body in ways most fathers would not have approved and it was a piece of her history that she wasn't proud of. She shrugged, taking her mug of coffee from the table to sip it. "The cons. That part of our lives," she replied. "It was pretty much the most awful time we lived through."

We were silent for a few minutes and Dean tightened his grip on Grace as she leaned into him. He kissed the top of her head and sighed. "That's over now," he whispered into her scalp, probably not realizing that we could hear him. "It's just you and me."

She nodded and Sammy glanced over at me, mirroring his brother's move. I sighed in contentment, knowing that this was the first time in either of our lives that we had felt this safe. Grace and I made eye contact across the table and she smiled. I could almost hear her when she thought, ' _We made it.'_ I nodded, closing my eyes and breathing Sammy's scent.

We were home.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Serra, the day after Halloween

I woke up the next morning completely hating everything in the entire universe. I was nauseated, sticky, sweaty, and uncomfortably stretched across Dean's lap. Grace slept next to me on the couch, her head on Dean's chest, and Sammy was laying on the floor with his feet propped up on the couch, leaning on my shins.

"Holy shit," I whispered, trying to pull myself from the pile. "Let me up."

Grace stirred next to me, hearing my voice. "What?" she asked, turning towards me. She had morning breath. I gagged.

"Oh my God," I coughed. "Let me up."

"I'm not holding you down!" she replied, holding out her hands. "You're the one laying across my boyfriend."

"Why can't I get up?"

"Because _your_ boyfriend has your legs pinned down!"

I groaned, feeling more and more like I was about to puke. "Sammy, get off me," I whined. "Get up, get up, get up."

I could hear Dean chuckling as I struggled to move out from under Sam. Finally, I rolled off the couch and headed towards the bathroom, trying not to make a mess on the carpet. Grace would have been pissed.

"Are you okay?" Sammy yelled, but I ignored him, slamming the bathroom door behind me. He followed soon after, leaning on the doorframe to speak. "Okay, I'm not abandoning you or anything," he began, "but I'm gonna need to go upstairs to the other bathroom."

Dean laughed from the living room. "You know what cures a hangover?" he shouted.

"Shut up!" Sam yelled as he bolted up the steps.

Leaning over the toilet and supporting myself on my knees, I promised myself, yet again, that I would never drink another drop of tequila.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sam, 286 days together

Dean was finally done with reassembling the Chevelle and had it out, driving around the neighborhood for days on end while Grace was at work; making sure that he had gotten everything perfectly put back together. She ran like a dream; the idle throaty and deep, roaring with every rev. I stood out on the porch one sunny morning in early December, watching him drive up and down the street, burning rubber as he took off from the stop sign again. Finally, he parked back on the side of the house, throwing the tarp over her and joining me on the steps.

"You gonna get her painted?" I asked as he grinned at me, pocketing the keys.

He nodded, smiling to himself. "Yeah," he sighed as he sat down next to me. "I have an appointment on Thursday to drop her off at that one-day paint shop across town."

"You pick a color?" I asked as I unwrapped a granola bar. "She likes red."

Dean took a long breath through his nose and smiled again. "Purple," he answered. "There's this deep metal flake purple that they've got and it's obnoxious enough that Grace will get a kick out of it." He glanced at me and chuckled. "Better be perfect, too. Shit's costing me about three hundred bucks."

"Where did you get three hundred bucks?"

He threw me a look and shook his head. "I've been taking odd jobs at a mechanics' shop near the paint place," he explained. "It's only been about two and a half weeks, but they pay well."

"Why didn't you tell me about that?"

Dean shrugged. "Tryin' it out, really. I wanna make sure I have something to contribute once me and Grace…"

I waited, but Dean faded off, not really finishing the thought. "Once you and Grace what?" I asked.

He licked his lips and turned to face me, still hesitating. He leaned back and dug into his pocket, pulling out the keys to the Chevelle again. Handing them to me, Dean squinted as he stared out into the sunshine filled street. I was confused, but I shoved the rest of the granola bar into my mouth and chewed as I inspected the keys in my hand. There were the two Chevelle keys; one for the door and one for the ignition, but there was another tiny ring between them, glistening there in the sunlight.

"What is this?" I asked, flipping the keys to the side to inspect the ring. "Dean, is this what I think it is?"

He didn't meet my gaze, but continued to stare out into the neighborhood street. I turned, my mouth hanging open, as a grin tugged at my lips. "Is this an engagement ring?"

"Shut up," Dean answered, his ears going bright red.

"Dean," I pressed. "Is this? Are you going to propose?"

He rolled the question around in his mind silently for a good thirty seconds before he opened his mouth to answer. "When the Chevelle's done," Dean finally replied. "After she gets painted, I'm gonna…" he pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I'll find the right time."

"Holy shit," I whispered, staring down at the tiny band of diamonds. "That shop _is_ paying you well."

"Shut up, man," he muttered, trying not to smile. "It's not even really an engagement ring. It's a wedding band, but it's all I can afford. I went to that pawn down in Deerhead."

"Oh, Griffin's place?"

Dean nodded his response. "Yeah, he's still there. Thought about taking you," he continued, "but it was kinda something I just had to do on my own."

"I get it," I nodded. "How's Billy?"

Dean nodded. "He's good. Says hi. Asked who my victim was." He turned to shake his head at me, running a hand through his short hair. "You know he knows the girls?"

"You're kidding?" I huffed out the lung full of air I held. "I guess it shouldn't really surprise me. The only hunter-friendly pawn this side of the Mississippi." I shook my head, still laughing at what a small world monster hunting was. "Did you talk to him about us? About you and Grace?"

Dean shrugged. "We got around to it," he began, rubbing his head again. "He told me that it made sense."

"What made sense?"

Taking a long breath, Dean leaned back on the porch, leaning his elbows on the top step and still staring out into the street. "That me and Grace are me and Grace. Said 'Michael's Vessel is a perfect fit for such an angelic woman'."

I furrowed my eyebrows, staring at Dean, completely lost. "What does that mean?"

"I have no idea," he answered, shaking his head. "Probably means that he knows something that we don't." Dean moved again, leaning his elbows back on his knees and rubbing his face. "Whatever," he sighed, "I'm just gonna forget about it. I already feel like I'm gonna puke. I don't need anything else to think about."

"You nervous?" I grinned at my brother, holding out the Chevelle's keys and dropping them in his outstretched hand.

Dean sighed again and swallowed hard. "Not just about…that," he stood and stretched, popping his back twice then shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm just sick of this waiting and that shithead stalker. I want him to either make his move or die so I can stop thinking about him. I feel like I'm sitting on some sort of sick time bomb and it's making it hard to concentrate on anything else. Cas thinks he's getting ready to make a move on Grace."

"What kind of move?"

Shrugging, Dean nodded towards the house. "Says that he's circling the house more often. He watches Grace at school and he's caught him twice following her at the grocery store."

"Jesus. What does Cas think he's gonna do?" I stood as well, tilting my head.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm pretty sure if he tries something, you're gonna have to defend my ass in court."

Pressing my lips together, I nodded once, knowing Dean wasn't exaggerating. "Wait it out," I reminded him. "Grace can defend herself, at least long enough to get us all involved. She's never very far away from any of us."

"I know."

There was a long pause as I considered the fact that my brother had just shown me an engagement ring for his girlfriend; my future sister-in-law. I couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and pressed his lips together, forcing his dimples to show. "Shut up," he repeated. "Don't fuck this up."

"Wouldn't dream of it."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Serra, nine and a half months or so together.

I stood as the _Star Spangled Banner_ began to play, my tassel whipping me in the face as the icy wind blew across the field of the University of Kansas. I couldn't believe that Grace talked me into walking for my graduation, but standing there now as the American flag rose up the flagpole, I glanced back at her, standing between Sammy and Dean in the stands. She was grinning widely and waved once, showing that she saw me. I turned back to the stage and tried to hold back a grin. I was finally graduating.

The song ended and my mind began to buzz with all of the emotion that I had managed to store in the back of my mind for the last decade or so. The idea that we weren't full time hunters anymore wasn't something that bothered me a lot. I missed it occasionally; the road, the fights…it kept our lives interesting, but more and more I was starting to realize how important it was that we were still alive, that we had grown into something bigger than two hunters from Portland.

Dad would have been so proud.

Tears stung my eyes, but I shoved the emotion away. This was a happy day. I had finished school; not at the top of my class, and not even in the middle of my class. I averaged a two-point-five on my transcripts, but hey, you know what? They're still about to give me a piece of paper that tells the world that I finished something important. I hadn't told Grace or Sammy yet, but this morning, I had checked my email to find that I had been hired at the local hospital as a "Candy-Striper" which basically meant that I had my foot in the door as far as being a nurse in the neo-natal unit went. It was a paid internship where I would have to be someone's bitch, but at this point, I didn't care. I was in.

The president of the college began his long-winded speech about being who we were and embracing ourselves as someone we could be proud of. I tried to let the words roll of my back and not affect me in the slightest, but the more I listened, the more I could hear Grace saying the same type of things to me over the years. She had been my lighthouse and no matter what I had done, no matter how many times I had yelled at her, or hated her, or outright ignored her, she had stuck by me and pushed me to be who I was. I licked my lips and stared up at the scaffolding of the stage, willing the tears to absorb back into my eyes. I could feel Grace's eyes on my back, but I refused to glance back or acknowledge her.

Things were changing in a hurry and as someone who lived as a nomad for much of our lives; it was easy to find my way into this new territory. We were adaptable, mainly because we had been forced to, but now that the Winchester boys were an active part of our lives, I knew that this change would be permanent. I could feel it in the air between Grace and Dean: they would get married soon, and then me and Sammy would have to move out or something, just to give them some space. I had no idea if Dean had ever considered the idea of having kids, but I knew it was what my sister wanted, so Dean would follow blindly when the time was right.

I laughed at the idea of Dean Winchester as a father and then panicked a bit picturing Sammy as one. I squeezed my eyes shut; shaking off the fear, but it only forced a tear down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly, and laughed at my own current vulnerability.

Before I knew it, the president was calling names over the microphone and we were whipping through the alphabet. My row stood and I took a deep breath, joining them as he continued with names.

"Claudia Bates," he read, and a girl that had been in a few of my chemistry classes walked across the stage. "Kara Bellevue, Steven Blalock, Michael Blum, Cynthia Boss." More people joined him on stage, taking the president's hand, shaking it and smiling, and then turning for a photo. My heart was in my throat as my line moved slowly towards the steps and finally, I was forced to climb the stage in front of hundreds of people.

"Serendipity Browning," he called and I turned towards the podium without thinking about it. I could hear whoops of applause coming from the bleachers and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. He held out my diploma case, extended his hand, shaking mine, and we both turned to smile for the photo. He nodded his approval at me and I continued across the stage, trying not to trip over my own feet.

The rest of the ceremony dragged on and finally, about an hour later, we were introduced as the graduating class in Nursing for the University of Kansas. I jumped to my feet with the rest of my class and we tossed out caps into the air. I watched for mine as it sailed into the sky, still gripping the crimson and blue tassel in my hand.

…

Serra

It took me awhile to get through the rivers of people that flooded the field after the ceremony, and being small didn't help. I was about to get frustrated enough to borrow someone's phone to call Grace, but I could hear Sammy's voice over the crowd.

"Move to your three!" he shouted, obviously seeing me above the people surrounding me.

Following orders, I stepped to my right, trying to find a place that was out of the way. Sammy approached me from behind, picking me up from the ground and hugging me tightly. I grinned as he set me down and turned; wrapping my arms around his shoulders and kissing him. "I am so glad that's over," I breathed, leaning away from his face.

Grace and Dean approached next. Grace was still a blubbery mess, wiping her face with a tissue. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Oh my God, stop crying," I moaned. "You're embarrassing."

She laughed and wiped her face once more, bending to hug me. "I know!" she exclaimed, still giggling. I felt her take a deep breath once my memories stopped flowing through her mind and she sighed into my hair, "I am so proud of you," she whispered.

I nodded onto her shoulder, fighting the tears again. "I know," I answered. "Me too."

Sam was beside himself with excitement and wrapped both his arms around us. "Let's go celebrate!" he shouted. "Pulled pork and mac and cheese!"

Grace pulled away from us and laughed, shaking her head. "He knows you so well," she replied. "We'll meet you there," she continued, glancing up at Dean.

There was a moment and a glance that passed between them that I didn't really understand and I narrowed my eyes at Grace. "What's with the secrecy?" I asked, gesturing between them.

Grace tried to shake me off. "Don't worry about it," she began. "Cas called earlier and said the stalker was hovering near the house. Dean just wants to go make sure everything is locked down."

"We'll come with you," I offered, but Sammy was shaking me off.

"We have reservations at four," he replied. "We're making Cas come too, but Dean has to pry him away from guard duty."

I sighed heavily, unwilling to let Grace out of my sight, but knowing that she was going to be with Dean, who was almost as badass as me, and a full-fledged angel, made me feel a bit better.

"Fine," I sighed. "I have to return my gown and we'll go." I turned towards my sister and raised a finger. "If you're more than ten minutes behind us, I am coming back, looking."

She nodded and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah," she sighed. "I know. I already got the speech from both of them."

I hugged Grace again and we parted ways, hand in hand with our boyfriends.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Sam

Serra says I should stop keeping track of days. So, nine and a half months together.

We drove to the restaurant hand in hand and Serra talked non-stop about how happy she was about being done with school. I tried to stay actively involved in the conversation, but my mind kept wandering back to how worried Dean was about the stalker. I had a gut feeling that this whole thing was coming to a head.

Serra noticed my absence in the conversation and nodded, staring out the window. "I know," she said simply. "I'm worried too, but she keeps saying it's all okay and that she'll be fine." She turned to stare at me, licking her lips. "It's gonna go down soon, and it's gonna be bad.

"Why do you say that?"

Taking a deep breath and flipping her hair from one side of her head to the other, Serra took a long time answering. "The last time she had a vision like this…" she paused, mulling her words over in her mind. "The last time we went through this was because Dad was about to be killed."

I whipped my head around to face her and lifted my eyebrows into my hairline. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"She told me not to," Serra argued. "Told me that it wasn't the same thing, but I remember it. I remember her having nightmares about it and the vision would replay over and over again." She turned to stare out the window again as we drove, her auburn locks fluttering in the wind occasionally. "Back then, she kept trying to change the outcome, making sure that she drove instead of Dad or not wanting to go to the storm cellar before the tornado…" She took a deep breath. "Nothing she did changed the path. He still ended up dying in the lightning storm and there was nothing we could do about it."

"Holy shit, Serra," I breathed. "You don't think—"

"That she'll die?" She pursed her lips and shrugged. "I don't know. She's playing the hand too close to her chest. The fact that Cas sees more than she does worries me too. Why can't she see the rest of it? How hard does that asshole hit her with that rock?" We drove in silence for a few minutes but then Serra turned towards me, bringing her leg up onto the bench seat in the El Camino. "Sammy, you gotta promise me something," she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Depends," I answered, tilting my head.

"No, no depends," she answered. "My sister is my life. Not even you outrank her."

I stayed silent, wondering if the same was true about Dean. I had my doubts.

"Sam, if it came down between saving me and saving Grace, you save Grace."

I rolled to a stop at the red light and faced her, my mouth open slightly. "Serra—"

"No, Sammy. I mean it," she licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Grace…there's something about her. She's…she special, Sam, and I have this feeling in my gut that she is the one. She's the one that does something big." Her hazel eyes flicked to mine and held my gaze, forcing me to listen. "I know she's more than a psychic. I don't know what, but she is. You have to promise, Sam."

"I can't promise something like that, Serra."

She looked away from me, staring out the windshield with her jaw locked together. We were silent in the car for a long time, and since there was no one else on the road, I sat through the cycle of stoplights, watching it turn green, and then yellow.

Finally, the light cycle came back to red and Serra took a breath. "Fine," she whispered, anger boiling in her voice, right below the surface. "But if she dies and there was something that you could have done to save her over me, I might never forgive you."

"Serra," I whispered, holding out my hand and touching her lightly on the thigh. "Trust me, I would fight to the death to protect the both of you, but you can't ask me to choose your sister over you in a life or death situation. I'm in love with you, not Grace."

We both stared at each other and I realized with a sinking feeling that it was the first time I had ever said it out loud. Slowly, the corners of Serra's lips tugged into a small smile and she took a slow, deep breath through her nose. "It's a big day, huh?" she asked quietly, still unmoving from her place on the seat next to me. "Graduating, confessing love…" She grinned at me and shook her head. "Took you long enough."

I rolled my eyes and pushed my hair out of my face. "You know, you're enough to drive a guy fucking insane."

"You're welcome," she replied, reaching for my face. She kissed me, hard, crashing her lips to mine. Our tongues danced furiously and before I knew it, I had unbuckled my seatbelt and moved over to her side of the seat, still trying to hold down the brake pedal from my position. She shrugged out of her shirt, dropping it behind her and I followed suit, laughing as my hair tickled her chest.

"At least pull over," she whispered as I kissed her neck. "And turn off the fucking car."

I laughed, nodding, and glanced behind me, making sure there was no one around. I pulled my El Camino off to the side of the road, put it in park and pulled the keys, throwing them into the aftermarket cup holder on the floor. I wasted no time returning to her; touching her face and neck, trying to shimmy my way out of my jeans and grinning from ear to ear, so happy that I had found the person that I would spend the rest of my life with.

Serra was breathless as she struggled with her own pants. "They're so tight!" she giggled. I leaned back, pulling with her and we finally succeeded in tugging them down enough to get the job done. I pushed into her without hesitation, holding myself over her and gasping for air as we found a rhythm.

I've had my share of women in the past, but there had never been anyone like Serendipity. She was passionate and focused, giving her whole self over to me. She is what I lived and breathed and I couldn't remember what life was like before I loved her. I remembered with a pang that I once thought the same thing about Jess, but I realized now that Jess was (as much as it hurt to admit it) nothing compared to Serra. The pull I had towards Serra made Jessica feel like an acquaintance and I silently begged forgiveness for leading Jess on.

Serra moved under me and forced me to shut my eyes as she wrapped her leg around mine, drawing me in closer, digging her nails into my back, and biting my neck. I grunted with effort and she moaned, sending my pulse into overdrive as I pinned her to the seat.

"Fuck, Sam—" she cried and wrapped one of her arms around my neck, dragging my face closer to hers to kiss me again. I knew I wouldn't last much longer, so I convinced myself to open my eyes and stare at her, waiting for the inevitable.

Serra's eyebrows were furrowed and her head was tilted back, inviting me closer to bite her neck. As soon as my lips made contact with her pulse point, she caved, sending shockwaves around me, and I crashed into blinding white pleasure.

Breathing hard, I leaned in and kissed her as she moved her face to lock eyes with me. "I love you, Serendipity."

"Don't call me that," she replied, grinning and out of breath.

"I love you, you little bitch."

She collapsed into a fit of giggles and touched my face with her hand, tracing my jaw with her fingertips. She licked her lips and took a deep breath, whispering, "I love you, too, you big jerk."

…

Serra, same day

We pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant and saw that the Impala Dean drove was already parked out front. Dean waited for us at the doors, standing with his arms crossed and his eyebrows up. "What the hell took you so long?"

I grinned at him and waggled my eyebrows. "I was making a man out of your brother," I replied.

"Impossible," Dean answered, glancing at Sammy and throwing him a grin.

Sam hesitated in front of Dean and lowered his voice. "Everything okay at home?"

"Yeah," he growled. "The Chevelle's tarp was pulled back, but it could have been the wind."

"You don't think so."

Dean shrugged, holding the door open for me as he stepped back. "I don't know anymore. Cas is on red alert, though, man. Hasn't said much since we picked him up."

I glanced around and asked, "Where is he?"

"Grace had to pee and he basically escorted her to the bathroom," Dean replied as he held up his hand to the hostess, showing her that there were five people to be seated. "At least we know that he takes his guard dog position seriously."

"Not much he's gonna be able to do, Dean," Sam commented as we followed the hostess to the back of the restaurant. "His grace is still pretty shaky."

"It's better than nothing," he sighed, glancing around as we sat at the large table. "Serra, come with me for a sec before Grace gets back?"

I narrowed my eyes at Dean, but shrugged and followed him as he headed back towards the front door. I was assuming that he was waiting for Grace and Castiel to show them where we were sitting, but he turned and led me towards the kitchen of the restaurant as Grace and Cas walked around the outer edge of the dining room on the opposite side. "What's up, Dean?" I asked, getting suspicious.

He looked slightly sweaty, like his nerves had taken over and I tilted my head expectantly. "I'm just gonna get this out as fast as humanly possible because talking about it makes me want to hurl." I raised my eyebrows, still waiting. Finally, he took a deep breath and his words tumbled out, almost faster than I could keep up with. "I finished the Chevelle and she's getting painted Thursday this week. After she's cured, I want to propose to Grace."

I could feel my eyes widen as I stared at Dean. "You're proposing to my sister with a car?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, frustrated. "No, no, no," he said, holding up his hands. "I have a ring."

"You _actually_ bought a ring?" I could feel the volume of my voice rising in surprise and he whipped his head around to make sure we were out of earshot.

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he sighed. "I bought a ring and I'm scared shitless, and I'm trying to follow all the rules here. I'm going legit, at least as much as I can…and you're the only family she's got, so…"

"So you're asking my permission?"

He made a face and half-shrugged. "If that's what you wanna call it." A grin crept across my face and I stared at him long enough to make him sweat. "Say something, Serra," he finally sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sonuvabitch."

I laughed then, holding my arms out to him for a hug. "You make her happy," I said quietly into his ear as he bent to return my hug. "You keep her safe. That's kinda all I'm looking for." He pulled away and nodded, agreeing to my sentiment. "Dean Winchester: husband. Who would have ever thought?"

Laughing nervously, he backed away and lifted his hand to scratch his neck absentmindedly, still working through his nervousness. "I would have been last in line," he replied, his voice almost a whisper.

I extended my index finger and moved closer to him accusingly. "Let me lay it down once, though," I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. "If you hurt her, it will be the last thing you ever do."

He was about to smile jokingly, but saw the look in my eyes and changed his facial expression in the same breath, a slight bit of worry creasing his brow. Dean took a step back and nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'd never."

I grinned again and glanced over towards the table where Sam, Grace, and Cas were locked into animated conversation. I caught Grace's eye and smiled at her, waving her off, but she threw me a questioning look. "She's suspicious," I muttered. "We get back to the table, we were talking about you finding footprints in the mud near the house."

Dean turned and nodded as he said; "Don't let her touch you for the next few days, huh?"

"For sure." We started walking back towards the table and I added, "How are you keeping this from her?"

"I lie for a living," he replied. "It's gotten to be habitual, even in my thoughts."

I glanced at my future brother-in-law and shook my head. "So she already knows," I commented. "Awesome."

"You don't think I can hide a secret from Grace?"

"If I can't," I sighed, smiling. "You sure as hell can't."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Sam, ten months in.

Serra was downstairs, putting dishes away as I packed away my books from the semester I had just completed. Serra had been packing boxes over the last week or so as well, trying to get her old school stuff organized enough to take it over to the Men of Letters headquarters so it was out of our way. Sharing a single bedroom had gotten exhausting and we were considering more and more about moving over to the bunker, just to be able to stretch out a bit.

Honestly, the idea scared me because Dean and I had not been apart purposefully or by choice since I left for Stanford, over a decade ago. We lived and breathed each other's company since then, and I wasn't sure how I felt about living apart from him.

If I felt that way about moving away from Dean, I knew Serra would be having a harder time than me about the whole situation. She played it off, though, pretending constantly that she wasn't an emotional wreck under all the sarcastic comments and exasperated eye rolls. The Browning sisters had only been apart two weeks in their entire lives, and that was because Serra had run away from home at fifteen after an argument with Grace soon after their father had been killed. The move would be devastating for both of them, but we would deal with it when the time came. I could hear her footsteps up the stairs and turned to greet her, pointing victoriously at the neatly stacked pile of boxes in the corner of the room. "Look!" I smiled, "Got the books packed."

She pushed the bedroom door open and grinned, ignoring me completely. "Dean and Grace just went into the garage!" she whispered, turning immediately back towards the steps, not waiting for me, and skipped silently back down the stairs.

I smiled, knowing what that one sentence meant, and shook my head, knowing right then and there that Dean wouldn't be getting any privacy for what he was planning to do. By the time I got down the stairs, Serra was physically pressed against the garage door, trying her best to hear everything that was being said. I chuckled and shook my head, hoping she didn't ruin Dean's moment.

Leaning on the banister, I crossed my arms and watched Serra positively tremble with excitement as she listened. I couldn't believe that our family was finally becoming permanent and I took a shaky breath, knowing that I would have a sister soon, too.

Seconds passed into minutes and the next thing I knew, I was watching Serra grab Grace's leather purse and hold it against her chest, waiting as patiently as she could to open the door. Finally, she couldn't seem to take it any longer and shouted, "Can we come in now? We're dying out here!"

Laughing, I shook my head as Serra opened the garage door and was jumping around with Grace. She hugged her fiercely, shutting her eyes, but as she was about to release her sister, Dean threw Serra a warning look while still out of Grace's line of sight. That look only meant one thing to me: he hadn't actually proposed yet.

 _Way to go, Serra,_ I thought as I sighed.

Dean didn't seem affected, though. He was as caught up in the moment as the girls were, and without hesitation, me and Serra were diving into the back seat of the rebuilt Chevelle, joining Dean and Grace on what should have been their engagement dinner.

…

Sam, ten months in.

Grace pushed the Chevelle to her limits as she drove us to dinner, and Guns n' Roses blared away on the stereo, forcing me to glance at Serra and throw her a sultry wink. Dean was all smiles as well, draping his arm across the front seat of the car, toying with the strands of blonde hair that sailed behind her as we drove. He was completely enamored with her and I couldn't help the swelling love I had in my chest for Grace. She had brought him the peace and contentment that I never could and knowing that my brother was happy and safe was the best feeling that I had ever experienced.

I let my hand rest on Serra's thigh and grinned at her. She squeezed my hand and shrugged at me, mouthing, "Oops?"

We ended up at one of the most expensive steakhouses in Kansas and ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, feeling like kings and queens. Dean never stopped touching Grace; holding her hand or touching her face. I knew it was partially so that he wouldn't have to work so hard to keep the secret that he was bursting to tell her, but I also realized that it was because he simply couldn't stay away from her.

Eventually, after many drinks and even more stories, we tumbled back to the metal-flake purple, 1971 Chevelle that waited proudly in the parking lot for us.

"Holy shit, it looks good," Grace breathed, leaning towards it with excitement, still clutching Dean's hand. "I still don't understand how you kept something like this from me for so long."

Dean shrugged, carefully watching her pull the keys from her pocket. She didn't pause, but used the key to unlock the doors, and we all climbed back into the car. Dean was almost sweaty, waiting on the edge of his seat for her to discover the band of tiny diamonds that hung from the key ring. I was shocked that she hadn't noticed it yet, but the excitement from having her Dad's Chevelle back from the dead was pretty distracting.

"It was pretty hard," Dean admitted, trying his best to lean back into the seat and look relaxed as she shifted into first gear to get back out onto the highway. "You aren't as nosy as I thought you would be. I almost lost my shit the night you two sparred though, trying to get the mats and the sticks out. Serra was thinking at least and distracted you long enough to keep you away from the garage."

"And then you made us keep the sticks in the laundry room after that," Grace laughed, remembering. "Now, that makes sense."

"So that means that you haven't been out in the garage in almost a year, at least," Serra commented.

Grace shrugged. "I don't make it a habit of going out there," she replied. "Dad's stuff is all that's out there. It just makes me sad."

Dean turned towards her and gripped her hand. "Now you've got new memories out there," he replied, grinning.

Serra leaned against me and sighed, taking my arm and wrapping it over her chest as we drove, and the wind whipped her hair into my face, but I didn't mind in the slightest. I closed my eyes, enjoying the chill of the December evening.

After about twenty minutes, Grace pulled off the highway and leaned over to kiss Dean at the stoplight. As she righted herself in the seat, the Chevelle stuttered, threatening to stall as we waited for the red light to change. She threw Dean a look, curious.

"Shit," Dean muttered under his breath. "She was running fine yesterday afternoon."

"What did you do wrong, Dean?" I asked, grinning. "Sounds like you didn't fish out all the bird feathers."

Dean leaned closer to the dash, closing his eyes to listen to the engine. Grace revved the motor again, trying to keep it from stalling out as we sat at the light. "Lean forward Gracie," Dean muttered, still listening. "I'm gonna push him out." He took a deep breath and rested his hand on the dash, still listening, and then, speaking mostly to himself, he murmured, "I don't know. Maybe a fuel injector is clogged."

The light changed and Grace got the Chevelle into first, then second gears, but by the next stoplight, the stutter was worse and we could feel the engine giving out. The Chevelle stuttered to a stop and Grace turned towards Dean and shrugged. "At least she let us have dinner first."

Dean groaned as Grace popped the hood and as he leaned over the engine, and Grace reached for her purse, digging through, looking for something. Finally, she sighed and glanced over the seat. "Will one of you call the tow truck?"

I felt Serra shrug and reply, "My wallet and my knife are the only things I have with me. Sam has his though," but I was already digging my phone out of my front pocket, flipping it open, and I could feel the panic begin to drip through my spine as I saw thirty-two missed calls and texts from Cas. "What's wrong, Sammy?"

"I have about thirty messages from Cas," I replied, holding out my phone.

"What?" Grace replied, turning and facing the both of us from her position in the front seat; our excitement and laughter fading from the evening as quickly as it arrived. I held up a finger, telling her to wait a second while I listened to a few of the messages.

"Stalker hasn't been home all day," I finally said; dread filling my chest. "Cas thinks he's near the house, but he can't find him." I turned towards my window and pounded on the glass, holding my phone up so Dean could see. "Dean!" I shouted. He caught my hint immediately and took out his own, flipping it open and obviously saw the same thing I did: missed calls and texts from Castiel.

Dean fell into fight mode almost instantly, glancing over his shoulder and walking back to the open window. I pushed the front seat forwards, getting ready to get out if I needed to. Dean was already issuing orders to the girls, talking quietly, "I want you staying in this car. Sam, call a tow truck and stay with them."

"Wait, where are you going?" Grace said to Dean, sitting up in her seat a little straighter. "Don't go by yourself."

Dean kissed her hair and shook his head. "It's not me I'm worried about, honey," he whispered as he turned and stared behind him again. I was waiting on hold for a tow truck operator as Dean walked slowly around the Chevelle, doing a complete perimeter check.

Serra's adrenaline was starting to kick in too. She was breathing harder, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. "Maybe this isn't it?" she asked, hopeful. "Maybe it's just a false alarm?"

I shook my head, knowing the truth. "No, this is it," I argued. "Dean has had this car running smoothing for the last two months. He's had it out every day since he got the spark plugs in." I faded off, talking to the operator and nodded to myself when she told me that there was already someone in our area and that he would be here shortly. I nodded, thanking her, and hung up as Grace and Serra turned towards the sound of a diesel engine.

"Fuck," I hear Dean swear as he stared into the oncoming headlights of the diesel tow truck as it came off the highway.

I pushed the front seat again; making sure it was as far forward as it could be so that I could climb out to help. "Where?" I asked, knowing Dean had seen the stalker.

The breath caught in my throat as I watched the tow truck pull up next to us, and the giant man that had been stalking Grace for the last seven months or so climbed out of the late eighties, GMC tow truck. It hit me like a ton of bricks: there was only one tow yard in Lawrence, Kansas, and he was driving one of the trucks from that company. It was all a set up.

I licked my lips and turned to face my brother, knowing that we were about to fight for our lives to protect Grace. He nodded at me and took a deep breath, popping his neck as he shook out his arms, readying himself for the fight. "Hey, man," Dean greeted as he gestured to the car. "Wish you had brought a flatbed. She's a classic, you know?"

The giant of a man towered above us and outweighed us by at least two hundred pounds. He had greasy, dark red hair that was plastered to his head and face and a dirty pair of coveralls that barely buttoned in the front. The high beams of his truck blinded us and I searched my mind for the best way I could think of to help my brother fight this monster.

I knew Dean was packing, but it had been months since I carried a gun, not having a need for it anymore, now that I was in school. I could hear the car door open behind us and knew that Grace and Serra were about to try and make a run for it. I pressed my lips together, wishing that they had just stayed in the car, but they were hunters as much as we were. They would never just stay in the car, waiting to be sitting ducks.

The ogre leaned forward, seeing Grace get out of the car and prep herself for the sprint she was about to take. She glanced towards us and wide-eyed, shouted, "Dean!"

Without hesitation, he turned and threw his cell phone through the air, right towards her. Grace caught it and turned towards the tree line, running as hard as she could towards the forest. I took a deep breath, seeing both of the sisters disappear into the trees and turned back towards the stalker. He looked angry and I tried my best to keep calm.

"Sammy, there's another nine in the glove box," Dean muttered to me and I moved back towards the Chevelle as my brother did what he did best: stall for time.

"So, uh," he began, licking his lips. "Had this planned out for awhile, huh?"

The stalker stared at Dean, clumsily taking a few steps towards the tree line where Serra and Grace had disappeared. "She don't belong to you," he growled to Dean. "She belongs to me."

"I am pretty sure she would disagree," Dean argued, taking a step to the left; staying between the forest and the stalker. "She's kind of a free spirit, you know? Doesn't really belong to anyone."

I managed to make it back to the passenger side of the Chevelle and used the car to block my movements. The giant, ugly man seemed to notice what I was doing and squared his jaw, taking a step towards me, but Dean jumped into his path. "Hey, now," Dean said, holding out his hands. "Why don't we all just cool it and talk about it like men?"

The man took another step towards Dean and slowly took a swing and I wondered momentarily if that was as fast as he could move. If that was the case, Dean and I could take him on ourselves, quite easily. The reality of the situation tugged at my mind, though, and Grace's vision rattled through my head. I knew that he would make it past us and I knew that it would end with Serra and Grace being knocked unconscious. From then, there would be a gunshot that could possibly lead to the end of Grace's life. I struggled to keep my wits about me, waiting for Dean to take the first move.

"There ain't nothing to talk about," the stalker finally replied, taking another dangerous step towards Dean. "You's what's in between me and Gracie, so you's got to go."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I was worried you were going to say something like that."

The ogre took another step towards Dean and in one movement, he pulled the gun that had been tucked into the back of his jeans, lifting it level with the stalker's head. "You think you're gonna kill me, boy?" he growled, taking another step towards Dean. "It's gonna take more than a nine millimeter, piss-ant gun to slow me down."

"Come on, man," Dean tried once more. "Just get back in the truck. You don't want none of this."

"You don't scare me, pretty boy," he growled, lunging towards Dean. "She's perfect. She's mine."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Sam, ten months in.

The giant of a man ambled towards Dean, so I used the opportunity as he was distracted to throw the first punch. It felt like I was hitting steel as my fist made contact with his face. I stepped back as Dean attacked, throwing himself at the stalker's gut with all he had, but the guy didn't even grimace. Dean stepped back and glanced up at the troll, rubbing his fist and shaking his head. "Shit," he whispered, glancing at me. "Stop man, just stop! I don't want to kill you, but I will if I have to." Dean raised his gun again and the stalker walked directly towards me, shoving me out of the way.

Dean took a deep breath and pressed his teeth together and I saw the flash of The Mark of Cain as his anger towards the man began to course through his body. "Don't lose control," I murmured.

He didn't acknowledge me, but I saw him lower his aim slightly, refocusing on the man's shoulder instead of his head. I nodded my approval as Dean finally took the first shot.

Burying itself deep in his shoulder, the nine-millimeter bullet didn't even slow him down. He pushed past my brother who fired again and again, landing shots in the giant's neck and shoulder, and then as he stomped off towards the forest after the girls, Dean fired again into his back.

He shook his head at me and swore under his breath, knowing the fight was about to go hand to hand. "Grace!" he bellowed. "Run!"

I don't remember much of what happened next, but I know Dean and I did everything we knew how to do to try and slow him down. The Mark of Cain swelled beneath Dean's sleeve, glowing red occasionally as we fought, but I was happy to see that Dean's rage was well under control, even though this would have been the perfect opportunity for him to give into it. We took turns punching, and kicking, and Dean even brought out a Buck knife at one point, but the stalker was faster than we gave him credit for, swiping it out of his hands and knocking him down in the process.

I know I lost consciousness for a few seconds when I hit the ground next to Dean, trying my best to keep the stalker from ambling forward, but Dean was on him, wrapped around his neck, trying to choke him out. The greasy redhead threw Dean against a tree as he heard the sirens approaching, and Dean fell to the dirt, holding his arm.

I knelt towards Dean, making sure that he was okay, but he shrugged me off as we heard the girls begin to yell. Somehow, we had already caught up and the stalker had found them.

"Dean!" Grace's voice rang through the forest and he leapt to his feet, weaving slightly as he ran. He had to have a concussion, but he shook it off, heading in the direction of Grace's voice. She sounded hoarse as she yelled again, "Dean!"

There was a small branch sticking out of the stalker's neck: obviously the girls had put up quite a fight. I couldn't immediately see Serra, and as I turned to look around for her, the stalker lumbered towards me and punched me right across the face, knocking me out.

I must have been out longer than I thought, because I could hear other voices in the forest surrounding me as I came to. I got up, tried to shake my head clear and ran towards the crowd, still looking for Serra.

"Where's Serra?" I shouted, ignoring the cop that had just commanded that I come with them to answer some questions. "Serra!"

A gurney was coming through the trees, ready to take Grace to the ambulance, but I hadn't had a chance to see what had happened when I was out. I was too busy looking for Serra. Finally, I turned, scanning the clearing once more, and I saw her collapsed into an awkward pile, bleeding profusely from a wound on her forehead. "Serra!" I shouted, running to her side and falling to my knees. I reached out, feeling for her pulse and sighed thankfully, feeling a faint heartbeat in her neck. "I need an EMT!" I shouted, turning back to the crowd. "Serra?" I tried over and over to wake her. "Serendipity!"

"She's knocked out, Sammy," Dean's voice growled over the crowd. "The troll hit her with the same stone that he hit Grace with. Dean bent, holding his palm to the bleeding wound in his shoulder. "Help me get to Grace."

I jogged back over to Dean as the EMTs lifted Serra onto the gurney and realized that Dean had been shot. "Dean," I began, glancing back over my shoulder. "He's been shot!" The EMTs that had been working on Serra turned back to Dean and we watched as Grace was loaded onto yet a third bed, and carried out of the trees.

"No," Dean argued, "I'm fine. Take care of Grace." Slowly, he closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.

…

Sam

The ride to the hospital was one of the longest rides I had ever been on. The police officers and EMT had handcuffed me, but allowed me to ride in the back with Serra as we headed to the local hospital. They were relentless with their questions, asking the same series in different ways, trying to make me reveal a hole in my story. It's what we had planned for, though, and my story was airtight, and the truth.

"He had been stalking her for months," I repeated. "Watching the house, following her to school. We've made a bunch of police reports, but no one seemed to worry that she was in any danger."

The female police officer smiled sadly and nodded, making a note on her clipboard. "I'm very sorry it came to this, Mr. Winchester. Most of the time, stalking cases never amount to anything, especially in this part of the country."

I pressed my lips together, nodding slowly. "Yeah," I agreed. "Well, this time it did."

Serra opened her eyes and blinked a few times, but her left eye was sealed shut with blood and swelling. "Hi, honey," I whispered. "You're okay. We're on our way to the hospital."

"Grace?" she asked, trying to survey the ambulance.

I swallowed hard, trying to avoid the question. "They bringing her and Dean in a separate truck," I explained.

"Is she alive?"

I glanced to the police officer again and took a shaky breath. "She was when they loaded her," I breathed. The cop looked away, knowing exactly what I knew: Grace was bleeding profusely as they loaded her in, but I refused to acknowledge that she could be on death's door. "They're doing what they need to do," I finally said, swallowing again. "You worry about you right now."

Serra squeezed her eyes shut and a single tear dripped down the side of her face, landing in her hair. I went to touch her face, but the handcuffs stopped me. The chain was attached to the side of the gurney, holding my hands down. The cop leaned over and sighed, pressing her lips together. She reached for her set of keys and unlocked my cuffs, letting them fall to the floor. I smiled weakly at her, nodding my thanks. She smiled weakly in return.

…

Sam

"I don't need to be admitted to a room," Serra argued with the doctor as he finished stitching her up. "Put me in a sling and let me go check on my sister."

"Miss," he sighed. "You suffered a major concussion when you were knocked unconscious and I don't feel comfortable letting you go home." He glanced at me and I shrugged, knowing how badly I wanted to hear the news on Grace and my brother. "You also have a stress fracture in your clavicle and a nasty laceration above your eye." Serra stared at him, completely nonplussed. "Look," he sighed, staring at the pair of us. "I'm not signing discharge paperwork, but I won't assign you a room either. Neither one of you are going home tonight, but I will allow you to stay in the waiting room until we find out about your siblings."

"Thank you," Serra spat, standing from the exam table. She swayed a bit upon standing, but I steadied her as she took a few steps towards the door.

I hesitated, knowing that the doctor meant well, and turned back towards him, smiling as best I could. "She doesn't mean to be rude," I sighed. "She's just worried."

The doctor nodded at me and shrugged. "I know. I'll send a nurse out to check on you two soon."

"Thank you."

By the time I joined Serra in the waiting room, another female police officer was running through a list of statements that we had already been through countless times in the ambulance. I listened for a moment, trying my best to be patient, and finally nodded. "Yeah, like we've said a few times. The guy has been stalking the girls for months. We've made police reports."

"Thank you," she finally said, making another note on her clipboard. Looking up at me, she furrowed her brow and sighed. "I'm very sorry about your brother and sister," she finally said, making my heart skip a beat. She turned and walked away as Serra moved closer to me, staying uncharacteristically silent.

"They'll be okay," I said quietly, trying to comfort her and myself at the same time. "They'll be okay."

We sat gingerly on the bench in the waiting room and waited almost an hour before we heard or saw anyone. Every once and a while, Serra would shift her position and take my hand, trying to bear with the pain of physical contact. Her knuckles were bloody from the fight and she was missing a couple of fingernails from each hand. The doctor had convinced her to allow him to wrap both of them, but she had refused pain medication out of sheer stubborness. She would sit for a few minutes, but every time, she released my hand and let hers lay flat, not wanting to push the boundaries of her pain tolerance.

Finally a nurse carrying a clipboard returned and gestured to me. "Mr. Winchester?" I stood and nodded. "Your brother is out of surgery and stable. He's insisting to be signed out, but we really need to monitor his wounds for the next few hours. Will you come and talk to him, please?"

I sighed and glanced at Serra. "Yeah, of course," I replied, still staring at Serendipity, "Do you want to come with me?"

She shook her head, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "Grace," she said simply.

"Do you have any news on her sister?" I asked, looking back towards the nurse. "Grace Browning? She went into surgery over an hour ago."

The nurse looked down at her clipboard and shook her head, "No, I'm sorry. I'll go find out after I walk you to your brother."

Suddenly, the double doors at the end of the hall burst open and Dean came tumbling out, his hospital gown flapping around him. He looked drunk, using the IV cart to support his weight as he made his way across the room. I talked him down, convincing him to sit on the bench next to Serra, but I could tell by the look in his eyes, he was crazed with emotion and guilt. We sat and talked about the fight and I tried my best to tell him that it wasn't his fault, but he still blamed himself, just like Dean always did.

Cas appeared not long after, wanting to heal Grace while she was still in surgery, but somehow, Dean agreed with me that he was still too weak to do so. Dean assigned him the job of tracking down the Chevelle and taking it home, and as Cas was almost out of the room, he added, "Be careful with those keys. Don't lose them."

We finally convinced Dean to move back into his hospital room so that he could rest, and we followed him upstairs to his room. He napped on and off and Serra lay on the cot next to him, dozing as she gave as much blood for Grace as the hospital staff would allow her to.

I watched them both, staring at my brother and girlfriend as they slept, knowing that I had received the least amount of damage from this whole attack. There was a sense of relief, knowing that the initial assault was over, but an insistent amount of dread as well, waiting to hear if Grace would survive. I wasn't sure how we would recover if Grace didn't live and I struggled with the idea that it would most likely be the end of my brother as well. The Mark of Cain would consume him, as it had before they met, and slowly, I would lose him to the rage.

Serra would be much the same, I feared. The sisters had never spent any time apart and regardless of the fact that she still had me, she would follow the same downward spiral into anger and depression. Grace seemed to be the glue that held this entire family together and I searched for the words to bring them both out of the abyss.


	24. Chapter 24

::Well, this is it! The origin love story between Sammy and Serra is coming to a close with this chapter. I hope you enjoyed their story. Let me know! Write a review! I would love to hear what you think. Thank you so much for following the Winchesters on this journey. Stay tuned for the next story, coming up soon. I will be returning to my Winchester Ranch series to find out what happens after 'Wayward.' I hope everyone enjoys the holidays!::

Love and internetty hugs,

TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo

...

Chapter 24

Serra, ten months, two weeks

Grace had been in the hospital for almost two weeks and I was still struggling with the idea that I had almost lost my sister. If it hadn't been for Castiel, I think we would have been making funeral and cremation arrangements, but I pushed the thought from my mind, struggling to stay focused on Sammy's handsome face.

"You okay?" he asked sitting down on the cafeteria bench across from me.

I took a deep breath and smiled, nodding as he pushed a bowl of green Jell-O towards me. "Yeah," I began, picking up the spoon with my left hand. "I mean, I was just thinking about how grateful I am for Cas."

Sammy nodded, lifting his eyebrows as he pushed his hair out of his face. He still had the remnants of yellowed bruises over his cheek and his arms where he had taken countless hits from the stalker on the night of the attack. "Agreed," he said, nodding. "That night, when she was still in surgery, I was trying to figure out what I would have done with the two of you if Grace hadn't made it."

I tried to smile, knowing that he was attempting a joke, but there was too much truth there to ignore. "We would have been a hard to handle," I replied, taking a bite. "I'm not sure who would have been worse, me or Dean."

Sam shook his head, agreeing. "Here's hoping I never have to find out."

"Ain't that the truth," I sighed, tapping his spoon with mine as we each took another bite. "How is Cas?"

Sam shrugged. "Same," he replied. "He told us that healing Grace wasn't as hard as he thought it would be, but he's still hurting a bit." He glanced up at me and smiled. "He took Dean's old bedroom at the bunker."

I grinned, "Aw, he misses his musk." Sammy and I chuckled for a bit and I stared down at the spoonful of lime gelatin, considering the best way to ask the next set of questions. "We're in it to win it, right?" I finally asked, flicking my eyes to Sam's.

"In what?" he said, lifting his gaze to mine. "Us? Together?" I agreed silently and Sam nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah, Serra. You're not getting rid of me."

I swallowed, struggling with the idea that he would be so mindlessly dedicated to me. "Even after everything that's happened?"

"If not more so," he added, taking another bite and licking off his spoon. "All that guy did was prove to me that I would have a hard time living without you."

"Grace and Dean have been together a year, today," I continued. "A whole year. That's longest relationship that she's ever been in."

"Hey," he countered. "Ten and a half months for us."

"Achievements unlocked all around," I joked, chuckling. "You're not going to propose when we hit a year, are you?"

"Do you want me to propose when we hit a year?"

I grinned and shook my head, closing my eyes. "You don't think that's moving too fast?"

Sammy leaned back in his chair, smiling slyly. "I would marry you right now if that's what you wanted," he commented. "Or, we don't ever have to get married and I would still never leave." He shrugged, crossing his arms in front of his chest and pursed his lips. "Having a ring or not having a ring doesn't change the way I feel about you, Serra. For Dean, it's a comfort that is predictable. I think to him, it means we're normal; that they're relationship means something to him, and that he finally gets the domestication that he has always craved. Dean has a very traditional ideology that a marriage is steadfast and unbreakable. He wants to marry Grace because he wants to prove how dedicated to her he is." Sam paused to take a breath. "I'm just happy that you've allowed me to love you for as long as I have."

I grinned slowly at him, knowing how carefully he chose the words. "I don't want to get married yet, or maybe not ever, but if I ever do," I leaned back and took a deep breath, "I'd wanna marry you."

Sam nodded, trying not to jump out of his seat to come towards me. "I love you, Serendipity," he whispered, a wry grin tugging at his lips.

"Don't call me that."

He was out of his seat and stepping around the table in seconds, leaning down to frame my face with his hands. He took a deep breath in his nose, taking in my scent as much as he could and finally closed the gap and kissed me.

…

Later that day, we headed back out into the winter cold and drove to our favorite diner to pick up hamburgers for Grace and Dean's anniversary dinner that we planned for inside her hospital room. We even convinced Cas to join us and picked him up on the way back to the hospital.

"Thank you for inviting me," he greeted in his deep voice as he sat in the back seat of the El Camino.

I glanced behind me and furrowed my eyebrows. "Cas, you're a member of this family. As far as I'm concerned you can do whatever, whenever you want. You saved my sister's life."

Castiel nodded and stared out the window of the El Camino as Sam began the drive back to the hospital. There was a period of silence as we mulled our own thoughts over, and finally, Cas took a breath to speak again. "I don't know how responsible I was for saving Grace," he replied. "I still wonder if she had already saved herself."

I turned to stare over the back seat at the angel. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "What does that even mean?"

Shrugging and looking entirely too human, Cas lifted one of his eyebrows. "Grace had already begun the healing process on her own, but it was exaggerated, almost as if she had angelic tendencies."

"What, are you saying Grace is part angel?" I laughed, shaking my head. "Don't tell her that. She's already full-enough of herself."

Cas shrugged again and stared out the window. "I will take that under advisement and will not bring it up again unless I have more information."

"Yeah, okay, Cas," I sighed, taking a French fry from the bottom of the bag and eating it.

By the time we got back to the hospital, the burgers were almost cold, but the look on Dean's face told me that he didn't care. "Oh, thank God," he muttered, taking the bag from my hands and opening it without hesitation. "I'm starving."

He took out a burger and handed it to Grace, then reached back in the bag and took one out for himself. I stood and watched; smiling at how good Grace was beginning to look. "You think they'll let you out soon, Gracie?" I asked, my mouth full of hamburger. "Your bruises are almost gone."

She nodded, wiping her mouth. "Yeah, and so are the skull fractures and headaches," she grinned at me and my eyes caught the sparkle of something on her left hand.

"What is that?" I asked, pointing to her fingers.

Her face flushed immediately and she grinned. "It's a ring," she answered, her blue eyes flicking to Dean's as he sat on the edge of her bed next to him. "We're engaged, I guess."

"Ugh, finally!" I shouted, leaning towards them to hug Grace fiercely. "You know how long I have been holding that in?"

Grace laughed and shook her head. "I _knew_ you were holding something back," she accused. Grace turned towards Dean and pointed. "Who else knew?"

Sam raised his hand and grinned. "Me," he said.

"I knew as well," Cas declared from the other side of the room. "It was challenging to withhold specific information around someone who is learning to read minds," he stated, causing Dean and Sam to laugh.

"It's a good thing you finally did it," Sammy commented at Dean as he stood to hug him. "She was getting too good at reading us. It would have come out sooner rather than later."

Dean laughed, clapping his brother on his shoulder with one arm. "Tell me about it," he replied, leaning back and grinning at Grace. "There," he said, spreading his good arm wide. "Now everything's out on the table. You've got the Chevelle, the ring…and now I don't have to work when I'm around you to hold anything in."

"You guys are all assholes," Grace chuckled, taking a bite of her fry. "Can't trust anyone these days."

I took a deep breath and sighed, saying, "Congratulations, you two."

Grace was beaming and turned to stare at her future husband. "Thanks," she sighed.

He leaned over to kiss her scalp and hugged her shoulders, whispering, "I love you, gorgeous," into her hair. She smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head on his chest.

As I stared at them, I felt at ease for the first time in weeks. _No,_ I thought. _For the first time in years._

Grace's blue gaze flicked to mine and she smiled lightly, nodding once. "Me too," she whispered, and I knew that she had heard my thoughts.

 _We're home,_ I continued.

Grace nodded as she leaned into Dean. I mirrored her, stepping closer to Sammy and closing my eyes, feeling the heat from his chest. I had never been so happy and I had never been so grateful to someone that wasn't directly related to me. The Winchesters had saved us from more than just a stalker. They had made my sister and me whole again and I knew that I would spend the rest of my life trying to repay them.

Sammy pulled me close and I closed my eyes as he kissed my head. "I love you, Serendipity," he whispered and I sighed, knowing that he could call me that for the rest of my life and I would always beg for more.


End file.
